Destination Moon

II

The morning was well worn by the time Jiiii Barnes drove back to the construction site. The company guard at the pass gate waved him through; he stopped nevertheless. "Howdy, Joe."

"Morning, Mr. Barnes."

"I see the gate is open. Any orders from the front office?"

"About the gate? No. Somebody called and said today was dress rehearsal for the Big Boy." The guard hooked a thumb toward the ship, two miles away.

"That's right. Now listen; this dress rehearsal must be letter perfect. Keep that gate locked. Clear with me, or Admiral Bowles, or Doctor Corley himself before unlocking it."

- "Gotcha, Mr. Barnes."

"Just remember that there are people who would do anything to keep that ship over there from leaving the ground-and they don't necessarily have foreign accents."

"Pon't worry, Mr. Barnes."

But he did worry; corking up the gate still left fourteen miles of unguarded fence.

Oh, well-it was a risk that must be accepted. He drove on past the living quarters, through the circle of shops. The area swarmed with people, on foot, in trucks, in jeeps. Trucks were lined up at the entrance to the bull pen surrounding the ship itself. Barnes pulled up at the administration building.

In Corley's office he found Bowles, Corley himself -- and Corley's wife. Corley looked harassed; Mrs. Corley was quite evidently angry. "Greetings, folks," he said. "Am I butting in?"

Corley looked up. "Come in, Jim."

Barnes bowed to Mrs. Corley. "How do you do, ma'am?"

She glared at him. "You! You're responsible for this!"

"Me, Mrs. Corley? For what?"

"You know very well 'what'! Oh you...you..." She caught her breath, then gave vent to one explosive word: "Men!" She slammed out of the room.

When the door had closed behind her, Barnes let his eyebrows seek their natural level. "I see she knows. You shouldn't have told her, not yet, Doe."

"Confound it, Jim. I didn't expect her to kick up a fuss."

Bowles faced around in his chair. "Don't be a fool, Jim. Doe's wife had to know-wives aren't hired hands."•

"Sorry. The damage is done. Doc, have you put any check on phone calls?"

"Why, no."

"Do it. Wait, I'll do it." He stepped to the door. "Countess, call our switch board. Tell Gertie to switch all outgoing calls to you. You tell 'em firmly that outside lines are all in use, find out who it is, why they want to call, and whom-then tell the Director, Admiral Bowles, or me. Same for incoming calls."

He closed the door and turned back to Bowles.

"Your wife knows?"

"Of course."

"Trouble?"

"No. Navy wives get used to such things, Jim."

"I suppose so. Well, I got Hastings squared away. He says that he will be here with the tape not later than two in the morning. Ive got a plane standing by for him."

Corley frowned. "That's cutting it fine. We ought to have more time to set up the autopilot."

"He says he can't promise it sooner. How about things here?"

"Loading is coming all right," answered Bowles, "provided the trucks with the oxygen aren't late."

"You should have flown it in."

"Quit uttering. The trucks are probably in Cajon Pass this minute."

"Okay, okay. Power plant, Doe?"

"I haven't broken Ned Holmes' seal on the atomic pile yet. The water tanks are filling, but they've just started."

He was interrupted . by the telephone at his elbow. "Yes?"

His secretary's voice sounded in the room. "Your wife wants to call long distance, Doctor. I'm stalling her. Are you in?"

"Put her on," he said wearily. Mrs. Corley's words could not be heard, but her angry tones came through. Corley answered, "No, dear...That's right, dear. I'm sorry but that's how it is...no, I don't know when the lines will be free; we're holding them for calls placed to the east coast...no, you can't have the car; I'm using it. I -- " He looked surprised and replaced the instrument. "She hung up on me."

"See what I mean?" said Barnes.

"Jim, you're a fool," Bowles answered.

"No, I'm a bachelor. Why? Because I can't stand the favorite sport of all women."

"Which is?"

"Trying to geld stallions. Let's get on with the job."

"Right," agreed Corley and flipped a key on his Teletalk. "Helen, call the electronics shop and tell Mr. Ward that I want to see him."

"Haven't you broken the news to him?" demanded Barnes.

"Ward? Of course."

"How did he take it?"

"Well enough. Ward is high strung. At first he insisted there wasn't time to get all the electronic gear ready."

"But he's in?"

"He's in." Corley stood up. "I've got to get back into the ship."

"Me, too," Bowles agreed.

Barnes followed them out. As they passed the desk of Corley's secretary she was saying, "One moment, puhlease-I'm ringing him." She looked up and pointed to Corley.

Corley hesitated. "Uh, uh," said Barnes, "if you let 'em tie you up on the phone, we'll never take off. I'm elected. Go on, you two. Get the buggy ready to go."

"Okay." Corley added to his secretary, "Got Mr. Ward yet?"

"Not in the electronics shop. I'm chasing him."

"I want him right away."

Barnes went back inside and spent an hour handling a logjam on the telephone. Personal calls he simply stalled on the excuse that the lines were needed for priority long distance calls. I-f a call was concerned with getting the ship ready to go, he handled it himself or monitored it. As best he could he kept the construction site an island, cut off from the world.

He straightened out a matter with the chief metallurgist, gave the accounting office an okay on some overtime of the week before, assured Associated Press that the "dress rehearsal" was worth full coverage, and gleefully extended an invitation to the Los Angeles Associated Civic Clubs to go through the ship-next week.

That done, he took Corley's dictaphone and began a memorandum to his business manager on how to close the project in case (a) the trip was successful, (b) the ship crashed. He planned to mark it to be transcribed the following day. --

A call from Dr. Corley interrupted him. "Jim? I can't find Ward."

"Tried the men's wash rooms?"

"No-but I will."

"He can't be far away. Anything wrong in his department?"

"No, but I need him."

"Well, maybe he's finished his tests and gone to his quarters to catch some sleep."

"There's no answer from his quarters."

"Phone could be off the hook. I'll send someone to dig him out."

"Do that."

While he was arranging this, Herbert Styles, public relations chief for the project, came in. The press agent slumped down in a chair and looked mournful.

"Howdy, Herb."

"Howdy. Say, Mr. Barnes, let's you and me go back to Barnes Aircraft and quit this crazy dump."

"What's biting you, Herb?"

"Well, maybe you can make some sense out of what's going on. They tell me to get everybody in here by three A.M. -- A.P., U.P., INS, radio chains, television trucks, and stuff. Then you lock the joint up like a schoolhouse on Sunday. And all this for a practice drill, a dry run. Who's crazy? Me or you?"

Barnes had known Styles a long time. "It's not a drill, Herb."

"Of course not." Styles ground out a cigarette. "Now how do we play it?"

"Herb, I'm in a squeeze. We're going to take off-at three fifty-three tomorrow morning. If word gets out before then, they'll find some way to stop us."

"Who's 'they'? And why?"

"The Atomic Energy Commission for one-for jumping off with an untested power-pile ship."

Styles whistled. "Bucking the Commission, eh? Oh, brother! But why not test it?"

Barnes explained, concluding with, " -- so we can't test it. I'm busted, Herb."

"Isn't everybody?"

"That isn't all.. Call it a hunch, or anything you like. If we don't take off now, we never will-even if I had the dinero to test in the South Pacific. We've had more than our share of bad luck on this project-and I don't believe in luck."

"Meaning?"

"There are people who want this enterprise to fail. Some are crackpots; some are jealous. Others -- "

"Others," Styles finished for him, "don't like the United States getting space travel first any better than they liked us getting the atom bomb first."

"Check."

"So what do you want to guard against? A time bomb in the ship? Sabotage of the controls? Or the Federal marshal with a squad of soldiers to back him up?"

"I don't know!" -- Styles stared at nothing.

"Boss -- "

"Yeh?"

"Item: pretty soon you've got to admit publicly that it's a real takeoff, for you've got to evacuate this valley.

The sheriff and state police won't play games just for a drill."

"But -- "

"Item: by now it is after office hours on the east coast. You're fairly safe from the Commission until morning. Item: any sabotage will be done on the spur of the moment, provided it isn't already built into the ship."

"Too late to worry about anything built into the ship."

"Just the same, if I were you, I would go over her with a toothpick. Any last minute stuff will be done with a wrench, behind a control panel or such-what they used to call 'target of opportunity."

"Hard to stop."

"Not too hard. There isn't anything that can be done to that ship down at its base, right? Well, if my neck depended on that heap, I wouldn't let anybody up inside. it from now on, except those going along. Not anybody, not even if he carried a certificate of Simon-pure onehundred-percentism from the D.A.R. I'd watch what went in and I'd stow things with my own little pattypaws."

Barnes chewed his lip. "You're right. Herb-you just bought yourself a job."

"Such as?"

"Take over here." He explained what he bad been. doing. "As for the press, don't tip them off until you have to make arrangements for the road blocks and evacuation-maybe you can keep things wrapped up until around midnight. I'm going up into that -- ship and -- "

The telephone jangled; he picked it up. "Yes?" It was Bowles.

"Jim-come to the electronics shop."

"Trouble?"

"Plenty. Ward has run out on us."

"Oh, oh! I'll be right over." He slammed the phone and said, "Take over, Herb!"

"Wilco!"

Outside, he jumped in his car and swung around the circle to the electronics shops. He found Bowles and Corley in Ward's office. With them was Emmanuel Traub,, Ward's first assistant. "What happened?"

Corley answered, "Ward is in the hospital-acute appendicitis."

Bowles snorted. "Acute funk!"

"That's not fair! Ward wouldn't run out on me."

Barnes cut in. "It doesn't matter either way. The question is: what do we do now?"

Corley looked sick. "We can't take off."

"Stow that!" Barnes turned to Bowles. "Red, can you handle the electronics?"

"Hardly! I can turn the knobs on an ordinary twoway-but that ship is all electronics."

"I'm in the same fix-Doc, you could. Or couldn't you?"

"Uh, maybe-but I can't handle radar and power plant both."

"You could teach me to handle power plant and Red could pilot."

"Huh? I can't make a nucleonics technician out of you in something like a matter of hours."

Barnes seemed to feel the world pressing in on him. He shook off the feeling and turned to Traub. "Mannie, you installed a lot of the electronic gear, didn't you?"

"Me? I installed all of it; Mr. Ward didn't like to go up the Gantry crane. He is a nervous type guy."

Barnes looked at Corley. "Well?"

Corley fidgeted. "I don't know."

Bowles said suddenly, "Traub, where did you go to college?"

Traub looked hurt. "I got no fancy degree but I carry a civil service classification of senior electronics engineer-a P-5. I did three years in the Raytheon labs. I had my ham license since I was fifteen, and I was a master sergeant in the Signal Corps. If it makes with electrons, I savvy it."

Barnes said mildly, "The Admiral didn't mean any harm, Mannie. What do you weigh?"

Traub shifted -- his eyes from one *0 the other. "Mr. Barnes-this is no rehearsal? This is it?"

"This is it, Mannie. We take off -- " He glanced at his watch. " -- in thirteen hours."

Traub was breathing hard. "You gentlemen are asking me to go to the Moon with you? Tonight?"

Before Barnes could answer, Bowles put in:

"That's it, Mannie."

Traub swallowed hard. "Yes," he said.

"Yes?" Barnes echoed..

"I'll go."

Corley said hastily, "Traub, we don't want to rush you."

"Director, take a look at my job application. I put down 'Willing to travel."