Destination Moon

III

The great ship was ringed with floodlights spaced inside the bull pen. It was still framed by the skeleton arch of the Gantry crane, but the temporary anti-radiation shield which had surrounded its lower part down to the jets was gone; instead there were pOsted the trefoil signs used to warn of radioactivity-although the level of radiation had not yet become dangerously high. --

But the power pile was unsealed and the ship was ready to go. Thirteen-fifteenths of its mass was water, ready to be flashed into incandescent steam by the atomic pile, to be thrown away at thirty thousand feet per second. --

High up in the ship was the control room and adjacent airlock. Below the air lock the permanent anti-radiation shield ran across the ship, separating the pressurized crew space from the tanks, the pumps, the pile itself, and auxiliary machinery. Above the control room, the nose of the craft was unpressurized cargo space. --

At its base triangular airfoils spread out like oversize fins-fins they would be as the ship blasted away; glider wings they would become when the ship returned to Earth with her tanks empty.

Jim Barnes was at the foot of the Gantry crane, giving last-minute orders. A telephone had been strung out to the crane; it rang and he turned to answer it.

"Mr. Barnes?"

"Yes, Herb."

"Sheriff's office reports road blocks in place and everybody out of the valley-it cost plenty cumshaw to clear the Idle Hour Guest Rancho, by the way."

"No matter."

"Everybody out, that is, but Pete the Hermit. He won't git."

"The old boy with the whiskers in that shack north of the gate?"

"The same. We finally told him the score, but it didn't faze him. He says he ain't never seen no ship take off for the Moon and he ain't planning to miss it, not at his age."

Barnes chuckled. "Can't blame him. Well, let him sign the release our own people sign. Tell him if he won't sign, the show won't take place."

"And if he doesn't sign?"

"Herb, I take off even if some damn fool is standing under the jets. But don't tell him."

"I got you. Now bow about the press?"

"Tell them now-but keep them off my neck. And even with releases they stay in the blockhouse."

"I'll have trouble with the fiewsreel and television people."

"Remote control or nothing. Herd 'em in,-- you go in last and lock the door behind you. They can string all the wires into the blockhouse they need, but nobody stays inside the area unsheltered."

"Mr. Barnes-do you really think the blast will be that dangerous?"

Barnes' reply was drowned out by the bull horn from the blockhouse: "Attention! The last bus is now loading at the north entrance to the shop circle!"

Presently Styles resumed:

"Another call-you better take it, boss. Trouble."

"Who is it?"

"Commanding general at Muroc."

"Put him on." In a moment he was saying, "Jim Barnes, General. How are you?"

"Oh-hello, Mr. Barnes. I hate to buck you, but your man seems unreasonable. Is it necessary to ask us to keep radar crews up all night for your practice drill?"

"Mmm . -- ...General, isn't your tracking radar always manned anyhow? I thought this country had a 'radar umbrella' over it."

The general answered stiffly, "That's not a proper question, Mr. Barnes."

"I suppose not. Big difference between passing a law and getting appropriations to carry it out, isn't there?" He thought a minute. "General, suppose I guarantee blips on your tracking screens?"

"What do you mean?"

Barnes said, "General, I've known you since open cockpits. You've used a lot of my planes~"

"You make good planes, Mr. Barnes."

"Tonight I want some cooperation. This is it, Whitey."

"Huh?"

"We blast -- off tonight. As long as you know, you can call White Sands and make sure they track us, too. And Whitey -- "

"Yes, Jim?"

"What with getting your crew organized and calling White Sands it will be another hour before you can call Washington, wouldn't you think?"

Silence persisted so long that Barnes thought he -- had been cut off, then the general answered, "It might take that long. Anything more you had better tell me?"

"No...that's enough. Except one thing; I'm going, Whitey. I'm piloting it."

"Oh. Good luck, Jim."

"Thanks, Whitey."

As Barnes turned away, he saw a plane circling the area, its lights blinking. The elevator creaked behind him; he looked up to see Corley, Bowles, and Traub descending. Corley shouted, "Is that Dr. Hastings?"

"I hope so."

The plane landed and a jeep drove up to it. A few minutes later the jeep swung into the bull pen and up to the crane; Doctor Hastings got out. Corley ran to meet him.

"Doctor Hastings! You have it?"

"Greetings, gentlemen. Yes, indeed." Hastings tapped a bulging pocket.

"Give it to me!"

"Suppose we go into the ship? I'd like to discuss it with you."

"Jump aboard." The two savants mounted the elevator and started up.

Admiral Bowles touched Barnes' sleeve. "Jim-a word with you."

"Shoot."

Bowles indicated Traub with his eyes; Barnes caught the meaning and they moved inside. "Jim," Bowles asked in a whisper, "what do you know about this man Traub?"

"Nothing that you don't. Why?"

"He's foreign born, isn't he? Germany? Poland?"

"Russia, for all I know. Does it matter?"

Bowles frowned. "There's been sabotage, Jim."

"The hell you say! What sort?"

"The earth-departure radar wouldn't function. Traub opened up the front, then called me over."

"What was it?"

"A pencil mark drawn between two leads. It -- "

"I get you, a carbon short. Sabotage, all right. Well?"

"My point is, he found it too easily. How would he know right where to find it if he didn't do it himself?"

Barnes thought about it. "If Traub is trying to stop us, all he has to do is to refuse to go. We can't go without him-and he knows it."

"Suppose his object was not just to stop us, but to wreck the ship?"

"And kill himself in the bargain? Be logical, Red."

"Some of those people are fanatics, Jim. Beyond logic."

Barnes considered it. "Forget it, Red."

"But -- "

"I said, 'Forget it!' Get on back in that ship and prowl around. Imagine that you are a saboteur, try to think where you would hide a bomb-or what you would wreck."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"Good. Mannie!"

"Yes, Mr. Barnes." Traub trotted up; Barnes told him to go up and continue checking. The phone at the foot of the crane rang; it was Styles again.

"Boss? Just got a call from the pass gate. The deputy there is hooked by car radio with the deputies at the road blocks -- "

"Good. Nice organizing, Herb."

"Not good! The north road black reports a car with a bailiff; he has a federal court order to stop the takeoff. They let him through."

Barnes swore softly. "Call, the pass gate. Tell the deputy there to stop him."

"I did. He won't. He says he can't interfere with federal business."

"That tears it!" Barnes stopped to think. "Tell him to make almighty sure that the man is what he says he is. Tell him that the court order is almost certainly phony-which it is. Tell him to hold the man while he gets in touch with the sheriff's office and has the sheriff phone the judge who is supposed to have issued the described order."

"I'll try," Styles answered, "but suppose the order is kosher, boss? Hadn't I better just put the slug on him and dump him in a closet until the fireworks are over?"

Barnes weighed this. "No-you'd spend your life breaking rocks. Gain me all the minutes you can-then hightail it for the blockhouse. Is everybody clear?"

"Everybody but the car and driver for Mrs. Corley."

"How about Admiral Bowles' wife?"

"He sent her off earlier-the Admiral doesn't like ships watched out of sight."

"Bless his superstitious heart! Send Mrs. Corley's car into the pen. I'm going to button up around here."

"Roger!"

Barnes turned around to find Corley and Hastings descending. He waited, bursting with impatience. Corley spoke as they reached bottom. "Oh, Jim, I -- "

"Never mind! Is everything okay up there?"

"Yes, but -- "

"No time! Say good-bye to your wife, Doctor Hastings -- good-bye, and thanks! Your plane's waiting."

"Jim," protested Corley, "what's the rush? It's -- "

"No time!" A car swung in through the gate of the pen, came toward them. "There's your wife. Say good-bye and get back here. Move!" Barnes turned away and went to the crane operator. "Barney!"

"Yeah?"

"We're going up now-for the last time. As soon as we are off the crane, back it-away.-- The safety stops are off the tracks?"

"Sure."

"Off entirely, or just moved back?"

"Off entirely. Don't worry; I won't run her off the rails."

"Yes, you will. Run the crane right off the end." "Huh? Mr. Barnes, if I dropped the wheels into the sand, it would take a week to get her back on."

"Check. That's exactly what I want. After you do it, don't stop to explain; just run for the blockhouse."

The operator looked baffled. "Okay-you said it."

Barnes came back to the elevator. Corley and his wife were standing near her car. She was crying.

Barnes shaded his eyes against the floodlights and tried to see the road to the pass gate. The foundry cut off his view. Suddenly headlights gleamed -- around that building, turned onto the shop circle and came toward the bull pen entrance. Barnes shouted, "Doc! Now! Hurry!"

Corley looked up, then hastily embraced his wife. Barnes shouted, "Come on! Come on!"

Corley waited to hand his wife into the car. Barnes climbed onto the elevator and, as Corley reached it, pulled him aboard. "Barney! UP!"

Cables creaked and groaned; the platform crawled upward. As Mrs. Corley's car approached the gate the other car started -- in. Both cars stopped, then th& strange car bulled on throUgh. It 'gunned in second toward the crane and slammed to a stop; a man swarmed out.

He ran to the elevator, the platform was thirty feet above his head. He waved and shouted. "Barnes! Come down here!"

Barnes shouted back, "Can't hear you! Too much racket!"

"Stop the elevator! I've got a court order!"

The driver of the car )umped out and ran toward the crane control station. Barnes watched, unable to stop whatever was to come.

Barney reached behind him and grabbed a wrench; the driver stopped short. "Good boy!" Barnes breathed.

The elevator reached the airlock door; Barnes nudged Corley. "In you go!" He followed Corley, turned and lifted the gangway off the lip of the door, shoved it clear with his foot. "Barney! Get going!"'

The crane operator glanced up and shifted his controls.'The crane quivered, then very slowly crawled back from the ship, cleared it, and continued.

It backed still farther, lurched out of plumb, and trembled. Its drive motor squealed and stopped. Barney slid out of his saddle and loped away toward the gate.