Rocket to Luna

On the other hand, if the loose rivet had not been spotted, the seam might have weakened and split, in which case the entire crew might have been lost together with the ship.

It was futile to figure on what-might-have-happened-if.

Jack hadn’t been on the trip, and Ted had. The loose rivet had been discovered. Merola was injured. The rocket was damaged. And the supplies were a long way off. Those were the facts. They could not be changed unless everything leading up to them was also changed.

Ted felt himself stumbling, and he dropped the tow line in an effort to maintain his balance.

“Watch your step!” Forbes snapped.

Ted planted his feet firmly on the ground and picked up the line again. He heard Forbes exhale, the sound carrying to Ted over the radio. Forbes was probably shaking his head within his helmet, suffering with the knowledge that Ted was an unwelcome companion.

Well, Forbes could take it or leave it! Ted wasn’t particularly delighted with his presence, either.

They passed over a partially rock-covered stretch of ground, and Ted noticed that the outcroppings were unusually sharp and jagged. He wondered what would happen if one of them fell onto a sharp rock splinter, and the thought sent a chill over his flesh. With the temperature at 238° below zero, a tear in the suit would probably mean instant freezing of a part of the body. The thought caused him to glance unconsciously at the battery reading on the dial just above the chrono. It glowed in the darkness of his helmet, the fluorescent needle swinging far to the right to register a positive charge. When that needle nudged the left-hand side of the dial, they’d be in trouble. Without batteries, there’d be no heat. And without heat...

Ted shoved the thought aside.

They kept moving, traveling at a fast pace, the time ticking by as they covered mile after mile. They tried to keep the sled away from the rocks, as difficult as it was, knowing that a sharp blow might cause the metal to snap in two because of the extreme cold.

Ted studied the ground as they walked, their strides longer than they would be under normal gravity. There were countless pockmarks underfoot, hundreds upon hundreds of craters of different sizes and shapes.

Ted knew it was the loose custom to call any craterlike object on the Moon a “crater.” He also knew, however, that there were a great many types within this loose classification.

The mountain-walled plains were the largest, with Archimedes being a good example of this type. A shiver of apprehension shot through his body as he realized he would soon be seeing this well-known crater with its fifty-mile diameter — if they reached the supplies.

There was always that big if.

He tried not to think of this. He thought of the ship, and he thought of the Space Station, and he thought of the Academy. Colonel York popped into his head again, and he smiled inside his helmet as he thought of the old man. Wouldn’t the colonel have loved this? Wouldn’t he have hopped for joy to be seeing the various formations he’d taught about day after day.

The mountain-ringed plains, smaller in diameter than the “walled” type, and surrounded with circular ramparts as opposed to the only roughly circular or polygonal shape of the walled type.

Or the crater-rings. Wouldn’t Colonel York love to see one of those.

“Memorize this!” he would shout to the class. “A crater-ring is anywhere from 3 to 10 miles in diameter, with slightly elevated walls and well-depressed insides. Have you got that? Good! Then see if your minds can absorb another fact. The Moon is dotted with craterlets and crater-pits, each too numerous to count. These are your smallest ‘craters’ and they cover the Moon like smallpox.”

A smart man, Colonel York, and a good teacher. He sold craters to the class the way one would sell a box of candy. All sizes and shapes, an assortment to choose from.

As small as a dime or a watermelon or a fireman’s net or a circular swimming pool. As large as a city block or a county or a state. Take your choice.

I’ll choose Earth, thank you, Ted thought.

No craters with 140-mile diameters, please. And no jagged mountain peaks tearing at the sky, higher than Mt. Everest, appearing even higher on the smaller surface of the Moon. You could keep the lighter gravity, too, thanks, and welcome to it.

Earth. Just simple old Earth.

That would be a nice place to be, all right. Clouds and a blue sky, and maybe a plain of waving green grass, and butterflies, and a little brook spilling over.

“Let’s take a break,” Forbes said suddenly.

The voice startled Ted. “What?”

“I said, ‘Let’s take a break.’ I wish you’d try to catch these things the first time, Baker. I’m not fond of repetition.”

“I’m sorry,” Ted said. “I guess I was...”

“Just skip it.”

“Sure.” Ted hesitated. “Sure, whatever you say.”

“You know, Baker, I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m not sure I like it at all,” Forbes persisted.

“I said I was sorry, sir.” Ted felt the blood rushing to his temples.