Chapter 10

There was bright sunshine at the Shed, not a single cloud in all the sky. The radar bowls atop the roof--they seemed almost invisibly small compared with its vastness--wavered and shifted and quivered. Completely invisible beams of microwaves lanced upward. Atop the Shed, in the communication room, there was the busy quiet of absolute intentness. Signals came down and were translated into visible records which fed instantly into computers. Then the computers clicked and hummed and performed incomprehensible integrations, and out of their slot-mouths poured billowing ribbons of printed tape. Men read those tapes and talked crisply into microphones, and their words went swiftly aloft again.

Down by the open eastern door of the Shed at the desert’s edge, Sally Holt and Joe’s father waited together, watching the sky. Sally was white and scared. Joe’s father patted her shoulder reassuringly.

“He’ll make it, all right,” said Sally, dry-throated.

Joe’s father nodded. “Of course he will!” But his voice was not steady.

“Nothing could happen to him now!” said Sally fiercely.

“Of course not,” said Joe’s father.

A loudspeaker close to them said abruptly: “Nineteen miles.“

There was a tiny, straggling thread of white visible in the now. It thinned out to nothingness, but its nearest part flared out and flared out and flared out. It grew larger, came closer with a terrifying speed.

“Twelve miles,” said the speaker harshly. “Rockets firing.“

The downward-hurtling trail of smoke was like a crippled plane falling flaming from the sky, except that no plane ever fell so fast.

At seven miles the white-hot glare of the rocket flames was visible even in broad daylight. At three miles the light was unbearably bright. At two, the light winked out. Sally saw something which glittered come plummeting toward the ground, unsupported.

It fell almost half a mile before rocket fumes flung furiously out again. Then it checked. Visibly, its descent was slowed. It dropped more slowly, and more slowly, and more slowly still...

It hung in mid-air a quarter-mile up. Then there was a fresh burst of rocket fumes, more monstrous than ever, and it went steadily downward, touched the ground, and stayed there spurting terrible incandescent flames for seconds. Then the bottom flame went out. An instant later there were no more flames at all.

Sally began to run toward the ship. She stopped. A procession of rumbling, clanking, earth-moving machinery moved out of the Shed and toward the upright space tug. Prosaically, a bulldozer lowered its wide blade some fifty yards from the ship. It pushed a huge mass of earth before it, covering over the scorched and impossibly hot sand about the rocket’s landing place. Other bulldozers began to circle methodically around and around, overturning the earth and burying the hot surface stuff. Water trucks sprayed, and thin steam arose.

But also an exit-port opened and Joe stood in the opening.

Then Sally began to run again.

Joe sat at dinner in the major’s quarters. Major Holt was there, and Joe’s father, and Sally.

“It feels good,” said Joe warmly, “to use a knife and fork again, and to pick food up from a plate where it stays until it’s picked up!”

“The crew of the Platform----” Major Holt began.

“They’re all right,” said Joe, with his mouth full. “They’re wearing gravity simulator harness. Brent’s got his up to three-quarters gravity. They get tired, wearing the harness. They sleep better. Everything’s fine! They can handle the space wagons we left and they’ve got guided missiles to spare! They’re all right!”

Joe’s father said unsteadily, “You’ll stay on Earth a while now, son?”

Sally moved quickly. She looked up, tense. But Joe said, “They’re going to get the Moonship up, sir. We came back--my gang and me--to help train the crew. We only have a week to do it in, but we’ve got some combat tactics to show them on the training gadget in the Shed.” He added anxiously, “And, sir--they’ll have to take the Moonship off in a spiral orbit. She can’t go straight up! That means she’s got to pass over enemy territory, and--we’ve got to have a real escort for her. A fighting escort. It’s planned for the space tug to take off a few minutes after the Moonship and blast along underneath. We’ll dump guided missiles out--like drones--and if anything comes along we can start their rockets and fight our way through. And we four have had more experience than anybody else. We’re needed!”

“You’ve done enough, surely!” Sally cried.

“The United States,” said Joe awkwardly, “is going to take over the Moon. I--can’t miss having a hand in that! Not if it’s at all possible!”

“I’m afraid you will miss it, Joe,” Major Holt said detachedly. “The occupation of the Moon will be a Navy enterprise. Space Exploration Project facilities are being used to prepare for it, but the Navy won the latest battle of the Pentagon. The Navy takes over the Moon.”

Joe looked startled. “But----”

“You’re Space Exploration personnel,” said the major with the same coolness. “You will be used to instruct naval personnel, and your space tug will be asked to go along to the Platform as an auxiliary vessel. For purposes of assisting in the landing of the Moonship at the Platform, you understand. You’ll haul her away from the Platform when she’s refueled and supplied, so she can start off for the Moon. But the occupation of the Moon will be strictly Navy.”

Joe’s expression became carefully unreadable. “I think,” he said evenly, “I’d better not comment.”

Major Holt nodded. “Very wise--not that we’d repeat anything you did say. But the point is, Joe, that just one day before the Moonship does take off, the United Nations will be informed that it is a United States naval vessel. The doctrine of the freedom of space--like the freedom of the seas--will be promulgated. And the United States will say that a United States naval task force is starting off into space on an official mission. To attack a Space Exploration ship is one thing. That’s like a scientific expedition. But to fire on an American warship on official business is a declaration of war. Especially since that ship can shoot back--and will.”

Joe listened. He said, “It’s daring somebody to try another Pearl Harbor?”

“Exactly,” said the major. “It’s time for us to be firm--now that we can back it up. I don’t think the Moonship will be fired on.”

“But they’ll need me and my gang just the same,” said Joe slowly, “for tugboat work at the Platform?”

“Exactly,” said the major.

“Then,” Joe said doggedly, “they get us. My gang will gripe about being edged out of the trip. They won’t like it. But they’d like backing out still less. We’ll play it the way it’s dealt--but we won’t pretend to like it.”

Major Holt’s expression did not change at all, but Joe had an odd feeling that the major approved of him.

“Yes. That’s right, Joe,” his father added. “You--you’ll have to go aloft once more, son. After that, we’ll talk it over.”

Sally hadn’t said a word during the discussion, but she’d watched Joe every second. Later, out on the porch of the major’s quarters, she had a great deal to say. But that couldn’t affect the facts.

The world at large, of course, received no inkling of the events in preparation. The Shed and the town of Bootstrap and all the desert for a hundred-mile circle round about, were absolutely barred to all visitors. Anybody who came into that circle stayed in. Most people were kept out. All that anyone outside could discover was that enormous quantities of cryptic material had poured and still were pouring into the Shed. But this time security was genuinely tight. Educated guesses could be made, and they were made; but nobody outside the closed-in area save a very few top-ranking officials had any real knowledge. The world only knew that something drastic and remarkable was in prospect.

Mike, though, was able to write a letter to the girl who’d written him. Major Holt arranged it. Mike wrote his letter on paper supplied by Security, with ink supplied by Security, and while watched by Security officers. His letter was censored by Major Holt himself, and it did not reveal that Mike was back on Earth. But it did invite a reply--and Mike sweated as he waited for one.

The others had plenty to sweat about. Joe and Haney and the Chief were acting as instructors to the Moonship’s crew. They taught practical space navigation. At first they thought they hadn’t much to pass on, but they found out otherwise. They had to pass on data on everything from how to walk to how to drink coffee, how to eat, sleep, why one should wear gravity harness, and the manners and customs of ships in space. They had to show why in space fighting a ship might send missiles on before it, but would really expect to do damage with those it left behind. They had to warn of the dangers of unshielded sunshine, and the equal danger of standing in shadow for more than five minutes, and----

They had material for six months of instruction courses, but there was barely a week to pass it on. Joe was run ragged, but in spite of everything he managed to talk at some length with Sally. He found himself curiously anxious to discuss any number of things with his father, too, who suddenly appeared to be much more intelligent than Joe had ever noticed before.

He was almost unhappy when it was certain that the Moonship would take off for space on the following day. He talked about it with Sally the night before take-off.

“Look,” he said awkwardly. “As far as I’m concerned this has turned out a pretty sickly business. But when we have got a base on the Moon, it’ll be a good job done. There will be one thing that nobody can stop! Everybody’s been living in terror of war. If we hold the Moon the cold war will be ended. You can’t kick on my wanting to help end that!”

Sally smiled at him in the moonlight.

“And--meanwhile,” said Joe clumsily, “well--when I come back we can do some serious talking about--well--careers and such things. Until then--no use. Right?”

Sally’s smile wavered. “Very sensible,” she agreed wrily. “And awfully silly, Joe. I know what kind of a career I want! What other fascinating topic do you know to talk about, Joe?”

“I don’t know of any. Oh, yes! Mike got a letter from his girl. I don’t know what she said, but he’s walking on air.”

“But it isn’t funny!” said Sally indignantly. “Mike’s a person! A fine person! If he’ll let me, I’ll write to his girl myself and--try to make friends with her so when you come back I--maybe I can be a sort of match-maker.”

“That, I like!” Joe said warmly. “You’re swell sometimes, Sally!”

Sally looked at him enigmatically in the moonlight.

“There are times when it seems to escape your attention,” she observed.

The next morning she cried a little when he left her, to climb in the space tug which was so small a part of today’s activity. Joe and his crew were the only living men who had ever made a round trip to the Platform and back. But now there was the Moonship to go farther than they’d been allowed. It was even clumsier in design than the Platform, though it was smaller. But it wasn’t designed to stay in space. It was to rest on the powdery floor of a ring-mountain’s central plain.

Let it get off into space, and somehow get to the Platform to reload. Then let it replace the rockets it would burn in this take-off and it could go on out to emptiness. It would make history as the first serious attempt by human beings to reach the Moon.

Joe and his followers would go along simply to handle guided missiles if it came to a fight, and to tow the Moonship to its wharf--the Platform--and out into midstream again when it resumed its journey. And that was all.

The Moonship lifted from the floor of the Shed to the sound of hundreds of pushpot engines.

Then the space tug roared skyward. Her take-off rockets here substituted for the pushpots. Her second-stage rockets were also of the nonpoisonous variety, because she fired them at a bare 60,000 feet. They were substitutes for the jatos the pushpots carried.