Rocket to Luna

“You’ll get used to it,” Jack told him. His face was unusually glum, the pained expression still clinging to his features. The Jack whom Ted had known at the Academy was full of life, always ready to share in a prank. This new Jack was a stranger.

“Well,” Ted said, “I was wondering if you knew where they’d dumped my baggage.”

Jack smiled briefly. “The Baggage Blues, eh? Come on, I’ll take you to the Loading-In Section.” He started down the corridor without another word, and Ted tailed behind him.

They passed an open door, and Ted called, “Hey, Jack, hold up a minute.”

Jack turned back, plainly displeased with the interruption. “What is it?” he asked.

“That’s what I wanted to ask you. Is this the Earth Viewing Room?”

Jack peeped through the open door. “That’s it.”

“Do you suppose we could go inside?”

“I think you’d better wait until your classes begin. You’ll get so much of Earth Viewing, it’ll be coming out of your ears.”

Ted stood in the doorway, fascinated by what he saw inside. A series of radar screens were set in the bulkhead, showing the section of the Earth over which the Station was now passing. The first screen covered an area of one hundred miles. The screen on its right covered a twenty-mile segment of the area on the first screen. The third screen pin-pointed a two-mile area. And the last screen, almost phenomenal in its telescopic power, had focused on a five-hundred-yard area, revealing the shore of an island far below, complete with palm trees and leaping surf. Men stood before each screen, wearing sound-powered phones through which all the data was passed up to Control.

“Come on,” Jack said. “I thought you wanted to find your baggage.”

Ted nodded, completely absorbed in the radar screens. Jack took his elbow and pulled him away from the door. “You’ll be standing watch on those screens,” he said. “We’ll see how much they fascinate you when you’ve got to nurse them along at four in the morning.”

They walked silently for what seemed like a long while, although Ted imagined they’d actually covered a very short distance in the winding corridor.

At last, Jack stopped before a panel in the bulkhead. Set into the panel was an arrangement of keys that looked very much like the keyboard of a typewriter. Each key was lettered alphabetically, starting with A in the first row, and ending with Z on the last key in the last row.

“Just punch out your last name on the keys,” Jack said. “The computer will sort out your baggage tags and pass the information on to the live crew on the deck above. They’ll pass your baggage down through the chute.”

Ted walked to the panel, studied it for a moment, and then punched out the letters B-A-K-E-R. He heard a faint humming sound as the electronic computer whirred into action. There was an immediate clicking as the information was relayed up to the top deck.

“It’ll be a few minutes,” Jack said. “The human element is a little slower than the machine element.”

Jack leaned against the bulkhead, a blank expression on his face. Ted wondered if it were simply boredom, or preoccupation with his thoughts of the Moon trip. There was a swish, followed by a thud against the bulkhead.

“That’s it,” Jack said. “Better wait until it all arrives.”

“There should be two suitcases and a barracks bag,” Ted said. Two more thuds sounded in the corridor, and Ted grinned. “I guess that’s all.”

He walked to the door set in the bulkhead at shoulder level. Quickly, he turned the wheel and threw it open, reaching inside for a suitcase. He deposited this on the deck and then put a second suitcase down beside it. He stepped close to the opening then and pulled the heavy barracks bag onto his shoulder.

“Want to close this door, Jack?” he asked.

“Sure.” Jack slammed the door shut, giving the wheel a quick twist. “I’ll help you with those suitcases,” he said.

“Well, thanks.”

Ted stood by, balancing the barracks bag on his shoulders, while Jack reached down for the heaviest of the two suitcases. Jack suddenly straightened, releasing his grip on the suitcase. His face turned a pasty white, and he staggered back against the bulkhead, his mouth twisted in pain. His right hand went up to his collarbone, and he closed his eyes tightly.

Ted dropped the barracks bag to the deck. “Jack, what is it? Are you...”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He ground the words out through tightly clenched teeth.

Ted moved closer, his hands stretched out before him, indecision making his movements clumsy and ineffective. “Jack... I... what...?”

“I told you it was nothing,” Jack snapped. He turned violently, and then screamed as he clutched at his collarbone again.

“I’m going to get the doctor,” Ted said.

“No!” Jack shouted.

“But...”

“I said no! I’m all right. Just let me alone.”

“You’re not all right,” Ted insisted. “A blind man could see that.”

“Shut up!” Jack said, his voice low and hissing. “Do you want the whole Station down on our ears?”