Rocket to Luna

“Three and one-third days, sir,” Ted corrected.

“Yes, of course.”

Dr. Gehardt made his way across the cabin, shaking his head. He stopped before Merola and smoothed the skin back on the top of his head. “It doesn’t look good, George,” he said.

“How much water?”

“A little more than four gallons.”

“No, that’s not good at all.” Merola paused. “But it’ll have to do.” He turned his head quickly as he heard footsteps. Dr. Phelps crossed the cabin, a sheet of paper in his hands.

“What’s the story, Doc?” Merola asked.

“Not too bad,” the physician replied. “Not too bad.”

“How bad?”

“Well, we won’t eat like kings, of course, but I don’t suppose any of us expected to.”

“What is it, Doc?”

“If we cut down to half-rations, our food’ll last two weeks. If we’re careful. That’ll give us just enough for the four-day wait and the ten days the men will be gone.”

“Good. If Dan reports affirmative on the oxygen, he and I will be leaving in four days.”

“What?”

“I said...”

“I heard you. I heard what you said.”

“Well, then...”

“That blow on your head must have really unbalanced you.”

“What do you mean, Doc?”

“I mean that you are in no condition to get out of that couch, no less travel a thousand miles in freezing temperatures.”

“Doc!”

“No ‘docs’ about it, George. You’re not leaving that couch. That’s an order.”

“I thought I was in command of this ship.”

“Not when it comes to physical welfare.” He paused, then added, “And if you get out of that couch, I can’t promise you you’ll be in command very long.”

“Look, Doc...”

“I’m not being foolish or stubborn, George. I’m being practical and maybe a little selfish. I can guarantee that you’re not strong enough to reach the supply dump. If you went, the effectiveness of the mission would be cut exactly in half.”

Merola considered this a moment. “You’re sure?”

“I’m positive. That blow was a nasty one.”

“Maybe...”

“No, George. Forget it.”

Merola shrugged and let out his breath. “Who’ll go then?”

“I’d volunteer myself,” Dr. Phelps said, “but that would defeat the purpose of keeping you here. That wound is going to need care during the next few weeks.”

“I’ll go,” Dr. Gehardt said simply.

Dr. Phelps avoided the geologist’s eyes. “I wouldn’t advise that, either, Fred.”

“Why not?”

“The trip should really have a more... a younger man along. It will be somewhat strenuous, Fred.”

Dr. Gehardt smiled. “I didn’t really think I should go, Peter. But I thought, perhaps...”

“That leaves you, Baker,” Merola said. “What do you say?”

“I don’t know, sir. Lieutenant Forbes might...”

“How do you feel about it?”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

“Okay,” Forbes piped from the hatch. “There are enough cylinders to last close to three weeks.” He climbed up onto the deck and slammed the hatch shut behind him, turning to the men. “The batteries are doing fine. Should last about thirteen days under normal operating conditions.”

“Good,” Merola said, nodding. “You’ll be leaving in four days, Dan.”

“Fine.” Forbes paused. “Who’s going with me?”

Merola took a deep breath. “Baker.”

“What?”

“Baker’s going with you. He’s the only man who’s...”

“For crying out loud, George, how can you...”

“You’ll leave in four days,” Merola snapped. “You and Baker. That’s an order.”

Forbes stared at Merola for a long time. He turned away then, starting for his couch, a pained expression on his face.

“Yes, sir,” he mumbled.

Chapter 12 Two Against the Night

The time passed rapidly. There was much to be done, and they wasted no time getting started. Forbes took Dr. Gehardt and Dr. Phelps outside to show them the extent of the damage and to explain the repairs needed. The doctors wanted to start the repair work at once, but Forbes told them there’d be plenty of time after the trip to the supply dump had been started.

Besides, a sled had to be built, a sled strong enough to carry fourteen cylinders of oxygen. These, together with the two tanks Ted and Forbes would be carrying on their backs when they left, would insure enough for the trip to the dump — providing there was no overexcessive delay.

The men got to work at once, building the sled outside the ship in the bitter cold. The temperature kept dropping steadily as night moved its way across the barren satellite.

On the first day they recorded the temperature at -219°. That was when they began building the sled.

On the second day the temperature dropped to -223°.

On the third day with the temperature at -230°, they finished the sled and began stacking the oxygen cylinders, passing them down the side of the ship with slender wire cables. They strapped the cylinders to the sled, using a buckle arrangement which could be loosened or tightened when wearing heavy gloves. The sled was a simple affair with four crossbars welded onto two runners. It would not be difficult to pull it across the face of the Moon, and the men were counting on the light gravity for help.