Rocket to Luna

The Moon wasted no time. It summoned all its strength and concentrated on the remaining clear area in the center of the face plate. The ice moved rapidly, covering the plexiglass, completely blanking out all vision. In thirty seconds, Ted could see nothing but the inside of his helmet.

“I can’t see,” he said. He stopped abruptly, aware of the luminous hands of the chrono staring back at him. “What are we going to do, Forbes?”

“What’s blocking that duct?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well find out, hang it!” Forbes’s voice was sharp.

Ted stared down the length of his nose, trying to locate the source of trouble. The rubber tubes from the chocolate and vitamin cylinders twisted around the sides of the helmet in a twining maze. Ted’s eyes opened wide as he saw what had blocked the hot-air duct.

“It’s one of the tubes,” he shouted. “It’s hanging right over the opening of the duct.”

“Can you reach it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Try.”

Ted reached out with his chin, snapping at the trouble-making tube with his teeth. The tube dangled enticingly several inches from his mouth. He stuck out his tongue, tried to wrap it around the tube, succeeded only in feeling the cold blast of ice that covered the face plate.

“I can’t do it,” he said.

“All right, forget it. We’re wasting time. Follow the strap back to the sled. I’ll take your hand when you get here.”

Ted turned and wiggled out of the strap. He grabbed it firmly in his hands and followed it hand over hand back to the sled. He groped like a blind man, the sheet of ice before his face as formidable as blinkers.

He felt Forbes’s hand close over his. He waited.

“I’ll lead you around to the back of the sled. You’ll have to push from now on. I’ll call directions.”

“All right.”

Forbes swung his arm around, and Ted followed it to the back of the sled. He groped around clumsily, finally found the runners and gripped them tightly.

“I’m ready,” he said.

“We’ve got clear sailing for about fifty yards. We turn right then to avoid a high rock. I’ll let you know just when. Let’s go, boy.”

Ted began pushing, bent over double, his arms and shoulders bearing down against the runners. It was a change, that much he could say. His muscles ached from pulling, and now they were pushing. He felt terribly confined within his helmet. A wall of white met his eyes whenever he glanced up. And he knew that each time he exhaled, moisture was being added to that wall, moisture that froze instantly. He kept pushing.

“A little to the right,” Forbes called. “That’s it. Now to your left, just a trifle. That’s the boy. Straight ahead. Fine. Fine.”

The calling went on as the figures fought their way against the night. A crippled man directing a boy with a blanked-out face plate. The halt leading the blind. The Moon no longer found it funny.

The calls stopped suddenly.

Ted jerked the sled to a halt and looked up. “Forbes?”

No answer.

“Forbes?”

“Straight... ahead,” the voice came. It was feeble, weak.

Panic clutched at Ted’s heart. “Forbes!” he shouted. “Are you all right?”

“Straight ahead.” The voice was weaker this time.

“Forbes!” Ted sprang erect and groped his way around the side of the sled. He fell to his knees, clambered to his feet again. He tripped over a sharp rock and fell flat on his stomach, rolling away from the sled. He sat up then and stared around. Tentatively, he reached out with his hands, feeling for the sled. He leaned forward.

Where was the sled? Where had it gone?

He got to his knees, his tongue swollen in his mouth, the taste of dead ashes in his throat. He pawed the ground, pulling his gloved hand back when it contacted a sharp rock.

He was bathed in sweat now, a prisoner within the space suit, a blind man groping for a sled on the face of the Moon. Slowly, carefully, he got to his feet.

He stood stockstill, seeing no farther than the white sheet of ice four inches from his nose.

“Forbes?”

Nothing broke the stillness. Nothing but the sound of his own heart hammering against his ears.

“Dan! Dan, where are you?”

He stretched out his foot, feeling the ground gently. Carefully, he put it down, his arms outstretched. He lifted his other foot, placed that down. He took a third step.

“Dan? Dan, please, where are you?”