Destination Moon

VII

The most treacherous maneuver known to space flight is a jet landing on an airless planet. Even today, it commands the highest pay, the most skilled pilots -- Farquharson, Ibid., III: 418

For forty hours they fell toward the Moon. The maneuver had worked; one could see, even with naked eye, that they were closing with the Moon. The four took turns at the radio, ate and slept and talked and stared out at the glittering sky. Bciwles and Traub discovered a common passion for chess and played off the "First Annual Interplanetary Championship" -- so dubbed by the Admiral -- using pencil marks on paper. Traub won, four out of seven.

Some two hundred thousand miles out the Luna slid past the,null point between Earth and Moon, and began to shape her final orbit. It became evident that the correction vector had somewhat overcompensated and that they were swinging toward the Moon's western limb -- "western" as seen from Earth: the Luna's orbit would intersect her namesake somewhere on the neveryet-seen far side-or it was possible that the ship would skim the far side at high speed, come around sharply and head back toward Earth.

Two principal styles of landing were possible-Type A, in which a ship heads in vertically, braking on her jets to a landing in one maneuver, and Type B, in which a ship is first slowed to a circular orbit, then stopped dead, then backed to a landing when she drops from the point of rest. --

"Type A, Jim-it's simplest."

Barnes shook his head. "No, Doc. Simple on paper only. Too risky." If they corrected course to head straight in (Type A), their speed at instant of braking would be a mile and a half a second and an error of one second would land them 8000 feet above-or below! -- the surface. --

Barnes went on, "How about a modified 'A'?" Modified Type A called for intentionally blasting too soon, then cutting the jets when the radar track showed that the ship hovered, allowing it to fall from rest, then blasting again as necessary, perhaps two or three times.

"Confound it, Jim, a modified 'A' is so damned wasteful."

"I'd like to get us down without wrecking us."

"And I would like us to get home, too. This ship was' figured for a total change of twelve and a half miles per second. Our margin is paper thin."

"Just the same, I'd like to set the autopilot to kick her a couple of seconds early."

"We can't afford it and that's that."

"Land her yourself, then. I'm not Superman."

"Now, Jim -- "

"Sorry." Barnes looked at the calculations. "But why Type A? Why not Type B?"

"But Jim, Type B is probably ruled out. It calls for decelerating at point of closest approach and, as things stand now, 'closest approach' may be contact."

"Crash, you mean. But don't be so damned conventional; you can vector into a circular orbit from any position."

"But that wastes reaction -- mass, too."

"Crashing from a sloppy Type A wastes more than reaction mass," Barnes retorted. "Get to work on a 'B'; I won't risk an 'A."

Corley looked stubborn. Barnes went on, "There's a bonus with Type B, Doe-two bonuses."

"Don't be silly. Done perfectly, it takes as much reaction mass as Type A; done sloppily, it takes more."

"I won't be sloppy. Here's your bonus: Type A lands us on this face, but Type B lets us swing around the Moon and photograph the back side before we land. How does that appeal to your scientific soul?"

Corley looked tempted. "I thought about that, but we've got too little margin. It takes a mile and a half of motion to get down to the Moon, the same to get up-three miles. For the trip back I have to save enough mass to slow from seven miles a second to five before we dip into the atmosphere. We used up seven to blast off-it all adds up to twelve. Look at the figures; what's left?"

Barnes did so and shrugged. "Looks like a slightly fat zero."

"A few seconds of margin at most You could waste it on the transitions in a Type B landing."

"Now the second bonus, Doe," Barnes said slowly. "The Type B gives you a chance to change your mind after you get into a circular orbit; the straight-in job commits you beyond any help."

Corley looked shocked. "Jim, you mean go back to Earth without landing?"

Barnes lowered his voice. "Wait, Doc. I'd land on the Moon if I had enough in tanks to get down-and not worry about getting up again. I'm a bachelor. But there's Mannie Traub. No getting around it; we stampeded him. Now it turns out he has a slew of kids, waiting for poppa to come borne. It makes a difference."

Corley pulled at his scalp lock. "He should have told us."

"If he had, we wouldn't have taken off."

"Confound it, things would have been all right if I hadn't suggested that you test the engine."

"Nonsense! If I hadn't scared those babies off with a blast, they probably would have wrecked the ship."

"You can't be sure."

"A man can't be sure of anything. How about Traub?"

"You're right-I, suppose. Okay, we leave it up to Traub."

From the other end of the compartment Traub looked around from his chess game with Bowles.

"Somebody call me?"

"Yes," Barnes agreed. "Both of you. We've got things to decide."

Barnes outlined the situation. "Now," he said, "Doe and I agree that, after we get into a circular orbit and have had time to add up what's left, Mannie should decide whether we land, or just swing around and blast for home."

Bowles looked amazed, but said nothing.

Traub looked flustered. "Me? It ain't my business to decide. I'm the electronics department."

"Because," Barnes stated, "you're the only one with kids."

"Yes, but -- Look here-is there really a chance that, if we landed, we wouldn't be able to get back?"

"Possible," Barnes answered and Corley nodded.

"But don't you know?"

"Look, Mannie," Barnes countered, "we've got water in the tanks to land, take off, and return to Earth-but none for mistakes."

"Yes, but you won't make any mistakes, will you?"

"I can't promise. I've already made one and it's brought us -- to this situation."

Traub's features worked in agonized indecision. "But it's not my business to decide!"

Bowles spoke up suddenly. "You're right; it's not!" He went on, "Gentlemen, I didn't intend to speak, because it never crossed my mind that we might not land. But now the situation demands it. As you know, I received a coded message.

"The gist was this; our trip has caused grave international repercussions. The Security Council has been in 'constant session, with the U.S.S.R. demanding that the Moon be declared joint property of the United Nations -- "

"As it should be," Corley interrupted.

"You don't see the point, Doctor. Their only purpose is to forestall us claiming the Moon-we, who actually are making the trip. To forestall us, you understand, so 'that the United States will not be able to found a base on the Moon without permission-permission that is certain~to be vetoed."

"But," pointed out Corley, "it works both ways. We would veto Russia establishing a base on the Moon.

Admiral, I've worked with you because it was a way to get on with my life's ambition, but, to be frank, using the Moon as a rocket launching base-by anybody-sticks in my craw."

Bôwles turned red. "Doctor, this is not an attempt to insure the neutrality of the Moon; this is the same double-talk they used to stop world control of atomics. The commissars simply want to tie us up in legalisms until they have time to get to the Moon. We'll wake up one morning to find Russia with a base on the Moon and us with none-and World War Three will be over before it starts."

"But-Admiral, you can't know that."

Bowles turned to Barnes. "Tell him, Jim."

Barnes gestured impatiently. "Come out of your ivory tower, Doe. Space travel is here now-we did it. There is bound to be a rocket base on the Moon. Sure, it ought to be a United Nations base, keeping the peace of the world. But the, United Nations has been helpless from scratch. The first base is going to belong to us-or to Russia. Which one-do you trust not to misuse the power? Us-or the Politburo?"

Corley covered his eyes, then looked at Bowles. "All right," he said dully. "It has to be-but I don't like it."

Traub broke the ensuing silence with "Uh,. I don't see how this ties in with whether we land or not?"

Bowles turned to him. "Because of this: the rest of that message restored me to active duty and directed me tO claim the Moon in the name of the United States-as quickly as possible. We would have what the diplomats call a fait accompli. But to claim the Moon I have to land!"

Traub stared. "Oh. I see." Bowles went on in a gentle voice, "Mannie, this goes beyond you and me, or even your kids. The surest way to make sure that your kids grow up in a peaceful, free world is to risk your neck right now. So we've got to land."

Traub hesitated; Bowles went on, "You -- see that, don't you? It's for your kids-and millions of other kids."

Barnes interrupted him. "Red-quit working on him!"

"Eh?" "He'll make a free choice-after we've leveled off and looked the situation over."

"But, Jim, I thought we saw eye to eye. You told Doc -- "

"Pipe down! You've stated your case, now quit trying to work him up into being a martyr."

Bowles turned bright red. "I must inform you, sir, that besides being returned to active duty I was given authority to commandeer this ship."

Barnes locked eyes with him. "You can take -- your authority and-do whatever -- you think proper with it. I'm skipper and will stay so as long as I'm alive." He looked around. "All hands-get ready for approach. Doe, go ahead with trial calculations, Type B. Mannie, warm up the pilot radar. Bowles!"

-- Finally Bowles answered, "Yes, sir."

"Rig the autocamera in the starboard port. We'll take a continuous strip as we pass around the far side."

"Aye aye, sir."

Traub leaned from his couch and peered out the starboard port. "It's just like the other side."

Barnes answered, "What did you expect?-- Skyscrapers? Co-pilot, how do -- you track?"

"Speed over ground-one point three seven. Altitude, fifty-one point two, closing slowly."

"Check. I project closest approach at not less than twenty-one-no contact. What do you get?"

"Closer to twenty, but no contact."

"Check. Take over orientation. I'll blast when altitude changes from steady -- to opening."

"Aye aye, sir!"

The Luna was swinging around the unknown far face of the Moon, but her crew was too busy to see much of the -- craggy, devil-torn landscape. She was nearing her closest approach, travelling almost horizontally. She was pointed tail first, ready to blast back from ,a top speed of a mile and a half a second to a circular orbit speed of a mile a second. At Barnes' order Bowles gave his attention to placing her axis precisely horizontal.

The television screen read "View Aft"; in -- its center was a cross mark lying over a picture of the mountainous horizon they were approaching. He jockeyed the ship against the reaction of the flywheel, then steadied her by gyros when one cross line held steady on the horizon~

Barnes set his controls on semiautomatic, ready both to fire and cut off with one punch of the firing button. Into his autopilot he fed the speed change he wished to achieve. Altitude dropped to forty miles, to thirty, to less than twenty-five. "Power plant,". Barnes called out, "stand by for blasting!"

"Ready, Jim," Corley reported quietly.

"Electronics?"

"Everything sweet, Skipper."

Barnes watched ground speed with one eye, the radar altimeter with the other...twenty-three, it said...twenty-two...twenty-one and a half.

Twenty-one point five...twenty-one -- point four -- point four again-and again. Point five! and crawling up. His finger stabbed at the firing button.

The blast was fourteen seconds only, then it cut off, but in the same mushy fashion which it had before. Barnes shook his' head to clear it and looked at his board. Altitude twenty-one point five; ground speed, one plus a frog's whisker-they were in orbit as planned. He sighed happily. "That's all for now, troops. Leave everything hot but you can get out of your hammocks."

Bowles said, "Hadn't I better stay and watch the board?"

"Suit yourself-but they won't repeal the law of gravitation. Doe, let's see how much juice we have left." He glanced at a clock. "We've got an hour to make a decision. It will be almost half an hour before Earth is in sight again."

"I don't like the way she cuts off," Corley complained. "Quit fretting. I used to have a car that sounded its horn every time I made a left turn."

Bowles got a container of coffee, then joined Traub at the starboard port. They peered around the automatic camera and watched the moonscape slide past. "Rugged terrain," Bowles remarked. --

Traub agreed. "There's. better stuff going to waste in California."

They continued to stare out. Presently Bowles turned in the air and slithered back to his acceleration couch.

"Traub!"

- Mannie came to the desk. "Mannie," Barnes said, pointing at a lunar map, "we figure to land spang in the middle of the Earthside face-that dark spot, Sinus Medii. It's a plain."

"You figure to land, then?"

"It's up to you, Mannie. But you'll have to make up your mind. We'll be there in about-uh, forty minutes."

Traub looked troubled. "Look, chief, you

shouldn't -- "

He was interrupted by Bowles' voice. "Captain! We are closing, slowly."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure. Altitude nineteen point three-correction: point two...closing."

"Acceleration stations!"

Barnes was diving toward his couch as he shouted.

Traub and Corley followed him. As he strapped down

Barnes called out, "Co-pilot-get a contact prediction.

All hands, stand by for maneuvers." He studied his own board. He could not doubt it; they were in something less

than a perfect circle.

He was trying to make a prediction from his display when Bowles reported, "I make it contact in nine minutes, Captain, plus or minus a minute."

Barnes concentrated. The radar track was jiggling as much as five or ten percent, because of mountains below them; the prediction line was a broad band. As near as he could tell, Bowles was right.

"What now, Captain?" Bowles went on. "Shall I swing her to blast forward?" A slight nudge would speed up the ship, in effect, lift her, permit her to fall -- around the Moon rather than -- curve down.

It would also waste reaction mass.

Nine minutes...nine hundred miles, about. He tried to figure how many minutes it would be until they raised Earth over the horizon, ahead. --

Seven -- minutes, possibly-and Earth would be in sight. A landing at Sinus Medli was impossible but they still might land in sight of Earth without using more precious water to correct their orbit. "Mannie," he. snapped, "we land in seven minntes-or we never land. Make up your mind.1"

Traub did not answer.

Barnes waited, while a minute coursed by. Finally he -- said in a weary voice, "Co-pilot-swing to blast forward. All hands, prepare for departure."

Traub suddenly spoke up. "That's what we came for, wasn't it? To land on the Moon? Well, let's land the damn thing!"

Barnes caught his breath. "Good boy! Co-pilot, cancel that last. Steady ship for deceleration. Sing out when you see Earth."

"Aye aye, sir!"

"There's Earth!"

Barnes glanced up, saw, Terra pictured in the TV screen, rising behind a wall of mountains. Bówles went on, "Better land, Jim. You'll never get over those moun -- tains."

Barnes did not argue; their altitude was barely three miles now. He shouted, "Stand by. Red, start swinging as soon as I cut off."

"Right!"

-- "Fire!" He stabbed the button. This maneuver was manual, intended only to stop their forward motion. He watched -- his ground-speed radar while the -- ship shivered-nine-tenths...seven...five...four.;. three...two...one...six-hundredths. He jerked his finger off just before it dropped to zero and prayed that a mushy cutoff would equal his anticipation

He started to shout to Bowles, but the ship was already swinging. -- -- --

Earth and the horizon swung up in the TV screen and out of sight. --

For a crawling ten seconds, while they fell straight down, the Luna crept into position for a tail-first landing. They were less than three miles up -- now. Barnes shifted scale from miles to feet and started his prediction.

Bowles beat him to an answer. "Contact in seventy-two seconds, Skipper."

Barnes relaxed. "See the advantage of a Type 'B' landing, Doe," he remarked cheerfully. "No hurry-just like an elevator."

"Quit gabbing and get us down," Corley answered taut1y~ --

"Right," Barnes agreed. "Co-pilot, predict the blast altitude."-- His own hands were busy to the same end.

Bowles answered, "Jim, yOu going manual or automatic?"

"Don't know yet." Automatic firing was quicker, possibly more certain-but that mushy cutoff could bounce them like a pingpong ball. He steadied crosshairs on his autopilot display and read the answer: "Blast at five two oh feet. What do you get, Red?"

"Check." Bowles added, "That's less than three seconds blast, Jim. Better make it automatic."

"Tend to your knitting."

"My mistake."

Nearly forty seconds passed and they had fallen to eleven thousand feet before he decided. "Power plant, set for manual landing. Co-pilot, cover me at five hun

dred feet."

"Jim, that's too late," Bowles protested.

"You will be covering me all of a tenth of a second -- after I should fire."

Bowles subsided. Barnes grabbed a glance at the TV screen; the ground under them seemed level and there was no perceptible drift. He looked back at his board. "Correction-cover at five ten."

"Five ten-right."

The seconds clicked past; he had his finger poised over the button when Bowles shouted, "Jim-look at the screen!"

He looked up-the Luna, still carrying a trifle of drift, was now over a long crack, or riM-and they were about to land in it.

Barnes jabbed the button.

He let up at once; the Luna coughed to silence. The rill, canyon, or crevasse was still in sight but no longer centered. "Co-pilot-new prediction!"

"What happened?" Corley demanded. --

"Quiet!"

"Prediction," Bowles chanted, "blast 'at-at three nine oh."

Barnes was adjusting verniers for his own prediction as Bowles reported. "Check," he answered. "Cover at three seven oh." He threw one glance at the TV screen. The crevasse was toward the edge of the screen; the ground below looked fairly smooth. Unquestionably the ship had a slight drift. All he could do was hope that the gyros would -- keep them from toppling. "Brace for crash!"

480 -- 450 -- 400 -- He jabbed the button.

The terrible pressure shoved his bead back; he lost sight of the altimeter. He caught it again -- 190 -- 150 -- 125 -- At "fifty" he snatched his finger away and prayed.

The jet cut off sloppily as always. A -- grinding jar slammed him more deeply into the cushions The ship lurched like an unsteady top-and stayed upright.

Barnes found that he had been -- holding his breath a long time. --

VIII --

Columbus found -- a pleasant climate rich land docile natives. Nowhere in our System did explorers find conditions friendly to men-and -- nowhere was this more brutally true than on our nearest neighbor.

-- Farquharson, Ibid., III: 420

Barnes felt dazed, as if wakening from a confusing dream. Bowles' voice recalled him to the present. "Jacks are down, skipper. Unclutch the gyros?"

He pulled himself together. "Check our footing first. I'll-Say! We're on the Moon!" Frantically he unstrapped.

"We sure are!" answered Bowles. "A fine landing, Jim. I was scared."

"It was terrible, and you know it."

"We're alive, aren't we? Never mind-we made it."

Corley interrupted them. "Power plant secured."

Barnes looked startled. "Oh, sure. Traub, your department okay?"

Mannie answered weakly, "I guess so. I think I fainted."

"Nonsense!" Bowles reassured him. "Come on-let's look."

The four crowded at the portside port and stared out across an umber plain, baking under an unchecked sun, now not far from zenith. Miles away, jutting up into black, star-studded sky, were the peaks they had seen. In the middle distance was a single pock mark, a crater a 'mile or less across. Nothing else broke the flat desolation

-- . ...endless, lifeless waste, vacuum sharp and kiln dry.

Traub broke the silence with an awed whisper. "Gosh, what a place! How long do we stay, Mr. Barnes?"

"Not long, Mannie." He tried to make his words carry conviction. "Doe," he went on, "let's check the mass ratio."

"Okay, Jim."

Bowles went to the starboard port; one glance through it and he sang out, "Hey-see this."

They joined him. Below was the dark chasm in which they had almost landed. It ran close to the ship; one jack almost touched the edge. Barnes looked -- down into its awesome depths and felt no regret about expending mass to avoid it. -- . --

Bowles stared at it. "I repeat, Jim, -- a fine landing."

"Too close for comfort."

Bowles pushed his face to the quartz and tried to see -- farther 'to right and left. "I'm turned around," he complained. "Which way is Earth?"

"Earth is east, of course," Corley -- answered. --

"Which way is east?"

"Man, you certainly are confused. East is out the other port."

"But it can't be. We looked out there first and Earth wasn't in sight." Bowles crossed back to the other port.

"See?"

Corley joined him. "That's east," he stated. "Look at the stars."

Bowles looked. "But something is screwy. I saw Earth before we landed, in the screen. You saw it, didn't you, Jim?"

"Yes, I saw it."

"You; Doe?"

"I was too busy. How high was it?"

"Just rising. But I saw it."

Corley looked at the sky, then at the mountains. "Sure, you did. And it's there-back of those mountains."

Barnes whistled tonelessly. "That's it. I've landed us a few miles too short."

Bowles looked whipped. "Out of line-of-sight," he said dully. "I could claim it until hell freezes-and I can't get the message back."

Traub looked startled. "We're cut off from Earth? But I saw it, too."

"Sure, you did," agreed Barnes, "you saw it while we had altitude. Now we're down too low."

"Oh." Traub looked out. "But it isn't serious, is it?

Earth is back of those mountains-but it's in the east; it will rise after a bit. How fast does the Moon turn? Twenty-eight days and something?"

Barnes turned to Corley. "You tell him, Doe."

"Mannie-the Earth doesn't rise or set."

"Huh?"

"The Moon keeps the same face to the Earth all the time. From any one spot, the Earth doesn't move; it just hangs."

"Huh?" Traub raised his hands, stared at them; it could be seen that he was visualizing it, using his fists for Earth and Moon. "Oh-I get it." He looked dismayed. "Say, that's bad. That's really bad."

"Snap out of it, Mannie," Barnes said quickly. "If we • can't contact Earth, we'll just have to wait until we get back." He said nothing about his own fears.

Bowles smashed a fist into a palm. "We've got to contact Earth! It doesn't matter whether we get back; four casualties is cheap. But to get a message through now-this message, that a United States vessel has landed and taken possession-can mean the salvation of the United States." He turned to Corley. "Doctor, we have enough power to -- lift us over those mountains,~ haven't we?"

"Eh? Why, yes."

"Then let's do it-now." He turned toward his couch. "Hold it, Red!" Bowles stopped; Barnes went on, "If we make one lift and drop, to near those mountains, you know what that does to our chances of getting back."

"Of course! It's not important; we owe it to our country."

"Maybe so. Maybe not." Barnes paused. "If it turns out that we don't have enough juice left to break free of -- the Moon, I'll concede your point."

"Jim Barnes, we can't consider ourselves against the safety of our country."

"Speak for yourself, Red. Conceded that a claim to the Moon might help out the State Department this week -- again it might not. It might stimulate Russia into going all out for space travel while the United States stumbles along as before, proud that we claimed it, but unwilling to spend real money to make it stick."

"Jim, that's sophistry."

"So? That's my decision. We'll try everything else first. You don't know you can't get a message through. Why don't you try?"

"When we're not in line-of-sight? Don't be silly."

"Earth is not far down behind those mountains. Find a place that is line-of-sight."

"Oh. Now you make sense." Bowles looked-out at the mountains. "I wonder how far away they are?"

"Tell you in a moment," Traub offered. "Wait till I swing the soup bowl around. -- " He started for his couch.

"Never mind, Mannie!" put in Barnes. "No-go ahead. It won't hurt -- to know. But I wasn't talking about the mountains, Red. They are too -- far away. But if you scout around, you may find a spot from which the mountains are low enough to let you see Earth. Or you might find some hills-we can't see all around from inside here. Mannie, is it possible to take out the radio and use it outside the ship?"

"Outside? Let me see -- The transmitter is unpressurized; I guess I could jigger it. How about power?"

Bowles said, "Doe, how much cable can we dig up?" Barnes cut in, "Find your spot, then we'll see what's needed."

"Right! Jim, I'll go out at once. Mannie, come with me and we'll find a spot."

"Outside?" Traub said blankly. --

"Sure. Don't you want to be the first man to set foot on the Moon?"

"Uh, I guess so." Traub peered out at the blazing unfriendly surface.

Corley got an odd look; Barnes noted it and said, "One moment, Red. Doe is entitled to the honor of being first. After all, the Corley engine made it possible."

"Oh, sure! Doe can be first down the ladder. Let's all go."

"I'll go later," Barnes decided. "I've got work to do."

"As you wish. Come on, Doe."

Corley looked shy. "Oh, I don't have to be first. We all did it, together."

"Don't be modest. Into our suits-let's go!" Thoughts of military policy seemed to have left Bowles' mind; he was for the moment boyishly eager for adventure. He was already undogging the hatch that led down into the 'airlock.

Barnes helped them dress. The suits were modifications of high-altitude pressure suits used by jet pilots-cumbersome, all-enclosing skins not unlike diving suits and topped off with "goldfish bowl" helmets. The helmets were silvered except for the face plates; a walkie-talkie radio, two oxygen bottles, and an instrument belt completed the main features of a suit. When they were dressed but not helmeted, Barnes said, "Stay in sight of the ship and each other. Red, when you shift from tank one to tank two, git for home and don't dawdle."

"Aye aye."

"I'm going now." He gasketed their helmets, leaving Córley to the last. To him he said softly, "Don't stay long.

• I need you."

Corley nodded. Barnes fastened the doctor's helmet,

- then climbed up into the control room and closed the hatch. Corley waited until Barnes was clear, then said, "Check radios. Check instruments."

"Okay, Doctor," Traub's voice sounded in his earphones.

- "Okay here," added Bowles.

"Ready for decompression?" They assented; Corley touched a button near the door; there came a muted whine of impellers. Gradually his suit began to lift and swell. The feeling was not new; he had practiced in their own vacuum chamber back at Mojave. Hç wondered how Traub felt; tbe first experieilce with trusting a Rube Goldberg skin could be frightening. "How are you doing, Mannie?"

"All right."

"The first time seems odd, I know."

"But it's not the first time," Traub answered. "I checked these walkie-talkies in the chamber at the job."

"If yOu gentlemen are through chatting," Bowles cut in, "you'll note that the tell-tale reads 'vacuum."

"Eh?" Corley turned and undogged the outer door.

He stood in the door, gazing north. The aching, sun-drenched plain stretched to a black horizon. On his right, knife sharp in the airless moonscape, was the wall of mountains they had grounded to avoid. He lifted his eyes and made out the Big Dipper, midnight clear above a dazzling, noonday desert. --

Bowles touched his arm. "One side, Doc. I'll rig the ladder."

"Sorry."

Bowles linked the ends of a rope ladder to hooks outside the door. Finished, he kicked the ladder out. "Go ahead, Doe."

"Uh, thanks." Corley felt for the first rung. It was a clumsy business in the pressure suit. Finally he knelt, grasped the threshold, got a toe in and started down.

It was awkward, rather than hard work. Suit and all, he weighed less than forty pounds. He found it easier to lower himself by his hands alone. He could not see below his chin, but the shape of the ship let him know his progress. Finally he was even with the jets. He lowered himself a bit more, felt for the ground-and kicked his toe into the lunar soil.

Then he was standing on it.

He stood there a moment, his heart pounding. He was trying to realize it, take it in, and found himself unable to

do so. He had lived the moment too many thousands of -- times in too many years of dreams. It was still a dream. A foot brushed his shoulder; he stepped back to avoid being stepped on by Traub. Soon Bowles joined them. "So this is it," the Admiral said inanely and turned slowly around. "Look, -- Mannie! Hills! Not far away."

Corley saw that Bowles was looking under the jets to the south. The plain was broken there with a sharp eruption of rock. Corley touched Bowles' arm. "Let's get away from the ship. Here where the jets splashed is probably a bit radioactive."

"Okay." Bowles followed him; Traub brought up the

rear. --

Ix Columbus had one motive; Queen Isabella had another -- Farquharson, Ibid., III: 421

On climbing back into the control room Barnes did not immediately get to work. Instead he sat down and thought. For the last-two days, was it? three days? four days, really-he had had no chance to collect his thoughts, drop his public mask and invite his soul.

He felt unutterably weary. He lifted his eyes to the mountains. There they stood,

tall and forbidding, witnesses that he had accomplished his driving purpose. --

To what end? To let Corley explore the dark outer reaches of science? To help Bowles insure the safety of western civilization-or perhaps hasten a new crisis?

Or to make orphans of four kids whose old man was "a very domestic type guy" but could be shamed Into coming along?

No, he knew it had been because Jimmy Barnes had been small for his age, clumsy with his fists, no decent

-- clothes-so he had to make more money, boss more men, build faster planes than anyone else. He, James A. Barnes, had reached the Moon because he had never been sure of himself, --

He wondered about Mannie's kids and his stomach was a rock inside him. -- --

He threw off the mood and went to the radio controls, keyed the walkie-talkie circuit and called out, "This is Jim Barnes, kiddies, coming to you by courtesy of 'SLUMP,' the Super soap. Come in, come in, wherever you are!"

"Jim!" Bowles' voice came back. "Come on out."

"Later," Barnes answered. "Where's Doe?"

"Right here," Corley answered. "I was just coming back."

"Good," said Barnes. "Red, I'll leave this switched on. Sing out now and then."

"Sure thing," Bowles agreed.

Barnes went to the desk and -- began toting up mass reserves. An orbit computation is complicated; calculating what it takes to pull free of a planet is simple; he had a rough answer in a few minutes. --

• He ran his hand through his hair. He still needed that haircut-and no barbers on this block. He wondered if it were true that a man's hair continued to grow after his death...

The hatch creaked and Corley climbed into the room. "Whew!" be said. "It's good to get out of that suit. That sun is really hot."

"Wasn't the gas expansion enough to keep you cool?"

"Not cool enough. Those suits are hard to get around

-- in, too, Jim-they need a lot of engineering."

"They'll get it," Barnes answered absently, "but reengineering this ship is more urgent. Not the Corley engine, Doe; the controls. They aren't delicate enough;"

"I know," Corley admitted. "That poor cutoff-we'll have to design a prediction for it into the autopilot, and use a feedback loop."

Barnes nodded. "Yes, sure, after we get -- back-and if we get back." He tossed his fingers at the scientist. "Hum that through."

Corley glanced at it. "I know."

"Red won't find a spot in line-of-sight with home; those mountains are infernally high. But I wanted him out of the way-and Mannie. No use talking to Red, he's going to get a posthumous Congressional Medal if it kills him-and us too."

Corley nodded. "But I'm with him On trying to contact Earth; I need it worse than he does."

"Hastings?"

"Yes. Jim, if we had enough margin, we could blast off and correct after radio contact. We haven't; if we get off at all it will be close."

"I know. I spent our ticket home, when I made that extra blast."

"What good would it have done to have crashed? Forget it; I need Hastings. We need the best orbit possible."

"Fat chance!"

"Maybe not. There's libration, you know."

Barnes looked startled. "Man, am I stupid!" He went on eagerly, "What's the situation now? Is Earth swinging up, or down?"

The Moon's spin is steady, but its orbit speed is not; it moves, fastest when it is closest to Earth. The amount is slight, but it causes the Moon to appear to wobble each • month as if the Man-in-the-Moon were shaking his head. This moves the Earth to-and-fro in the lunar sky some seven degrees.

Corley answered, "It's rising-I think. As to whether it will rise enough-well, I'll have to compute -- Earth's position and then take some star sights."

"Let's get at it. Can I help?"

Before Corley could reply Bowles' voice came over the speaker: "Hey! Jim!"

Barnes keyed the wallcie-talkies. "Yes, Red?"

"We're at the hills south of the ship. They might be high enough. I want to go behind them; there may be an easier place to climb."

On the airless Moon, all radiorequires line-of-sight -- yet Barnes hated to refuse a reasonable request. "Okay -- but don't take any chances."

"Aye aye, Skipper." ' Barnes turned to Corley. "We need the time anyhow." "Yes," Corley agreed. "You know, Jim, this isn't the way I imagined it. I don't mean the Moon itself-just wait until we get some pressurized buildings here and some decent pressure suits. But what I mean is what we find ourselves doing. I expected to cram. every minute with exploring and collecting specimens and gathering new data. Instead I'll beat my brains out simply trying to get us back."

"Well, maybe you'll have time later-too much time."

Corley grudged a smile. "Could be -- "

He sketched out the relative positions of Earth and Moon, consulted tables. Presently he -- looked up. "We're in luck. Earth will rise -- nearly two and a half degrees before she swings back."

"Is that enough?" "We'll see. Dig out the sextant, Jim." Barnes got it and Corley took it to the eastern port. He measured the elevations of three stars above the tops of the mountains. These he plotted on a chart and drew a line for the apparent horizon. Then he plotted Earth's position relative to those stars.

"Finicky business," he complained. "Better check me, Jim.',

"I will. What do you get?"

"Well-if I haven't dropped a decimal point, Earth will be up for a few hours anyway three days from now."

Barnes grinned. "We'll get a ticker-tape parade yet, Doe."

"Maybe. Let's have another look at the ballistic situation first."

Batnes' face sobered. --

Corley worked for an hour, taking Barnes' approximation and turning it into something slightly better. At last he stopped. "I don't know," he fretted. "Maybe Hastings can trim it a little."

"Doe," Barnes answered, "suppose we jettison everything we can? I hate to say it, but there's all that equipment you brought."

"What do you think I've been doing with these weight schedules? Theoretically the ship is stripped."

"Oh. And it's still bad?"

"It's still bad."

Bowles and Traub returned worn out and just short of sun stroke. The Admiral was unhappy; he had not been able to find any way to climb the hills: "I'll go back tomorrow," he said stoutly. "I mean after we've eaten and slept."

"Forget it," advised Barnes.

"What do you mean?"

"We are going to have line-of-sight from here."

"Eh? Repeat that."

"Libration," Barnes told him. "Doe has already calculated it."

Bowles' face showed delighted comprehension. Traub looked puzzled; Barnes explained it. --

"So you see," Barnes went on, 4'we'll have a chance to send a message in about seventy hours."

Bowles stood up, his fatigue forgotten. "That's all we • -- need!" He pounded his palm exultantly.

"Slow down, Red," Barnes advised, "our chances of taking off look worse than ever."

"So?" Bowles shrugged. "It's not important."

"Oh, for Pete's sake! Drop the Nathan Hale act. Have the common' decency to give a thought to Mannie and his four kids.",,

Bowles started to retort, stopped-then went on again' with dignity. "Jim, I didn't mean to annoy you. But I meant what I said. It's not important to get back, as long as our message gets through. Our mistakes will make it easier for the next expedition. -- In a year the United States can have a dozen ships, better ships, on the Moon. Then no country would be-so foolhardy as to attack us. That is important; we aren't."

He went on, "Every man dies; the group goes on. You spoke of Mannie's kids. You have no children, nor has --

Corley. Mannie has-so I know he understands what I mean better than you do."-- He turned to Traub. "Well, --

Mannie?"

Traub looked up, then dropped his eyes. "Red is right, Mr. Barnes," he answered in a low voice, "but I'd like to -- get home."

Barnes bit his lip. "Let's drop it," he said irritably. "Red, you might rustle up some supper."

For three days, Earth time, they labored. Bowles and Barnes stripped the ship-cameras, empty oxygen bottles, their extra clothing, the many scientific instruments Corley had hoped to use-Wilson cloud chamber, Geiger counter, a 12" Schmidt camera and clock, still cameras, 'the autocamera, ultra -- and infra-spectrographs, other instruments. Corley stayed at his desk, computing, checking, computing again-getting the problem in the best possible shape to turn -- over 'to Hastings. Traub overhauled his radio and lined up his directional antenna to the exact orientation at which Earth would appear.

The hour finally crept up to them. Traub, was in his couch at the radio controls while the rest crowded at the eastern port. What they needed to say had been made one message:

A formal claim to the Moon, setting forth time and • place of landing, a long and technical message to Hastings, and finally code groups supplied by Bowles. Traub would send it all out as one, many times if necessary.

"I see it!" It was Corley who claimed the distinction. Barnes stared at the spot. "Your imagination, Doe; a highlight on the peaks." The sun was behind them,

"afternoon" by local time; the mountains were bright in

the east. --

Bowles put in, "No, Jim. There's something there." Barnes turned. "Start sending!"

Traub closed his key.

The message was repeated, with listening in between, time after time. An arc of Earth slowly, terribly slowly, crept above the horizon. No answer came back, but they did not despair, so little of Earth was as yet in sight. Finally Barnes turned to Corley. "What does that look like, Doe? The part we can see, I mean."

Corley peered at it. "Can't say. Too much cloud."

"It looks like ocean. If so, we won't get a jingle until it's higher."

Corley's face slowly became horror struck. "What's the matter?" demanded-Barnes.

"Good griefi I forgot to figure the attitude."

"Huh?"

Corley did not answer. He jumped to the desk, grabbed the Nautical Almanac, started scribbling, stopped, and drew a diagram of the positions of Earth, Sun, and Moon. On the circle representing the Earth he drew a line for the Greenwich meridian.

Barnes leaned over him. "Why the panic?"

"That is ocean, the Pacific Ocean." Bowles joined' them. "What about it?"

"Don't you see? Earth turns to the east; America is • -- moving away-already out of sight." Corley hurriedly consulted his earlier calculations. "Earth reaches maximum elevation in about, uh, four hours and eight minutes. Then it drops back."

Traub pushed up an earphone. "Can't you guys shut up?" he protested. "I'm trying to listen."

Corley threw down his pencil. "It doesn't matter, Mannie. You aren't ever going to be in line-of-sight with NAA."

"Huh? What did you say?"

"The Earth is faced wrong. We're seeing the Pacific Ocean now, then we'll see Asia, Europe, and finally the Atlantic. By the time we should see the United States it will have dropped back of the mountains."

"You mean I'm just wasting time?"

"Keep sending, Mannie," Barnes said quietly, "and keep listening. You may pick up -- another station."

Bowles shook his head. "Not likely."

"Why not? Hawaii may still be in sight. The Pearl Harbor station is powerfuL"

"Provided they have rigged a beam on us, same as NAA."

"Well, keep trying, Mannie."

Traub slipped his earphone back in place. Bowles went on, "It's nothing to get excited about. We'll be picked up anywhere." He chuckled. "Soviet stations will be listening to us shortly. They will be broadcasting denials at the same time stations in Australia are telling the world the truth."

Corley looked up. "But I won't get to talk to Hastings!"

Bowles said very gently:

"As I said, that isn't important in the long run."

Barnes said, "Stow it, Red. Don't get downhearted, Doe-there is a good chance that some other station will beam us. Keep trying, Mannie."

"Will you guys please shut up?"

He did keep trying over and over again; in the intervals he listened, not only to the beam frequency'ofNAA, but all over the dial. --

More than eight hours later the last faint arc of Earth had vanished. No one had thought to eat and Traub had not left his post for any purpose. --

They went on preparing to leave, but their hearts were not in it. Corley stayed at his desk,' except for snatches of sleep, trying to make up by effort for the lack of fine tools. He set the departure ahead to, give him more time.

The aching, cloudless lunar day wore on and the sun sank to the west. They planned to risk it just at sundown. It was admitted by Corley-and by Barnes, who checked his figures-that the situation theoretically did not permit success. By the book, they would rise, curve around the Moon, and approach the border where the fields of Earth and Moon balance-but they would never reach it; they would fall back and crash.

It was also agreed, by everyone, that it was better to die trying than to wait for death. Bowles suggested that they wait a month until next sight of Earth, but arithmetic shut off that chance; they would not starve; they would not die of thirst-they would suffocate.

Bowles took it serenely; Traub lay in his bunk or moved like a zombie. Corley was a gray-faced automaton, buried in figures. Barnes became increasingly imtable. --

As a'sop to Corley, Bowles made desultory readings on the instruments Corley had not bad -- time to use. Among

the chores was developing the films taken on the flight across the back face. It had been agreed to keep them, they weighed ounces only, and it was desirable to develop them to prevent fogging by stray radioactivity. Barnes assigned Traub the task, to keep him busy.

Traub worked in the airlock, it being the only darkroom. Presently he came poking his head up through the hatch. "Mr. Barnes?"

"Yes, Mannie?" Barnes noted with satisfaction that Traub showed his first touch of animation since his

ordeal. --

"See what you make of this." Traub handed him a negative. Barnes spread it against a port. "See those little round things? What are they?"

"Craters, I guess."

"No, these are craters. See the difference?"

Barnes tried to visualize what the negative would look like in positive. "What do you think?"

"Well, they look like hemispheres. Odd formation, huh?"

Barnes looked again. "Too damned odd," he said slowly. "Mannie, let's have a 'punt."

"There's no print paper, is there?"

"You're right; my error."

Bowles joined them. "What's the curiosity? Moon maidens?"

Barnes showed him. "What do you make of those things?"

Bowles looked, and looked again. Finally he asked, "Mannie, how can we enlarge this?"

It took an hour to jury-rig a magic lantern, using a pilfered camera lens. They all gathered in the airlock and Traub switched on his improvised projector.

Bowles said, "Focus it, for cripes' sake." Traub did so. The images of his "hemispheres" were reasonably distinct. They were six in number, arranged in a semicircle -- and they were unnatural in appearance.

Barnes peered at them. "Red-you were a bit late when you claimed this planet."•

Bowles said, "Hmmm -- " Finally he emphatically added, "Constructions."

"Wait a minute," protested Corley. "They look artificial, but some very odd formations are natural."

"Look closer, Doe," Barnes advised. "There is no reasonable doubt. The question: were we a year or so late in claiming the Moon? Or millions of years?"

"Eh?"

"Those are pressure domes. Who built them? Moon people, long before history? Visiting Martians? Or Russians?"

Traub said, "Mr. Barnes-why not live Moon peo ple?"

"What? Take a walk outside."

"I don't see why not. As soon as I saw them I said, 'That's where those flying saucers came from a while back."

"Mannie, there were no flying saucers. Don't kid

yourself."

Traub said, doggedly, "I knew a man who -- "

" -- saw one with his own eyes," Barnes finished.

"Forget it. That's our worry-there. They're real. They show on l~tlm."

"Forget Martians, too," Bowles said gruffly, "and any long-dead Moon people."

"I take it you go for Russians?" Barnes commented. "I simply know that those films must be in the hands of military intelligence as soon as possible."

"Military intelligence? Ah, yes, on Earth-a lovely thought."

"Don~t he sarcastic. I mean it."

"So do I."

From willingness to die, his mission -- accomplished, Bowles became frantic to live,-- to get back. It made him bitter that he himself had insisted on landing-with all-important new evidence even then latent in the ship.

He sweated out a possible scheme to get the films back to Washington and seized a time when Traub was out of the ship to propose it to Barnes. "Jim-could you get this ship back by yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"You checked the figures. One man might make it-if the ship were lightened by the other three."

-- • Barnes looked angry. "Red, that's nonsense." "Ask the others."

"No!" Barnes added, "Four men came; four go back -- or nobody does."

"Well, I can lighten ship, at least. That's my privilege."

"Any more such talk and it'll be your privilege to be strapped down till takeoff!"

Bowles took Barnes' arm. "Those films have got to -- reach the Pentagon."

"Quit breathing in my face. We'll make it if we can. Have you anything left to jettison?"

"Jim, this ship gets back if I have to drag it."

"Drag it, then. Answer my question."

"I've got the clothes -- I stand in-I'll jettison them." Bowles looked around. "Jettison, he says. Jim Barnes, you call this ship stripped. By~ God, I'll show you! Where's that tool kit?"

"Traub just took it outside along with other stuff."

Bowles jumped to the microphone. "Mannie? Bring back the hacksaw; I need it!" He turned to Barnes. "I'll show you how to strip ship. What's that radio doing there? Useless as a third leg. Why do I need an autopilot display? Yours is enough. Doe-get up off that stool!"

Corley looked up from his closed world of figures. He had not even heard the row. "Eh? You called me?"

' -- 'Up off that stool-I'm going to unbolt it from the deck."

Corley looked puzzled. "Certainly, if you need it." He turned to Barnes. "Jim, these are the final figures."

Barnes was watching Bowles. "Hold the figures, Doe. We may make a few revisions."

Under the drive of Bowles' will they stripped ship again, fighting against their deadline. Rations-a/l rations -- men do not starve quickly. Radios. Duplicate instruments. Engineering instruments not utterly essential to blasting. The hot plate. Cupboards and doors, light fixtures and insulation; everything that' could be hacksawed away or ripped out bodily. The ladder from control room to airlock-that was kicked outlast, with three space suits and the rope ladder.

Bowles found no way to get rid of the fourth pressure suit; he had to wear it to stay alive while he pushed out the last items-but he found a way to minimize even that. He removed the instrument belt, the back pack, the air bottles, the insulating shoes, and stood there, gasping the air left in the suit, while the lock cycled from "vacuum" to "pressure" for the last time.

Three hands reached down and pulled him through the hatch. "Stations!" Barnes snapped. "Stand by to

blast!"

They were waiting for the count off, when Traub reached up and touched Barnes' arm. "Skipper?"

"Yes, Mannie?"

Traub looked to see if the other two were noticing; they were not. "Are we really going to make it?"

Barnes decided to be truthful. "Probably not." He glanced at~ Bowles; the Admiral's features were sunken; his false -- teeth had gone with the rest. Barnes grinned warmly. "But we're sure going to give it a try!"

The monument where the proud Luna once stood is pictured in every schoolroom. Many trips followed, some tragic, some not, before space -- transportation reached its present safe operation. The spaceways are paved with the bodies and glorious hopes of pioneers. With accomplishment of their dream some of the romance has gone out of space.

Farqüharson, Ibid., Hi: 423