Rocket to Luna

“What?”

“The supply dump. It’s right outside. Don’t you see? There’s no reason for us to rush now. Why, we’ve got all the time in the world!”

Ted blinked, and then a broad grin covered his face. Somehow, he’d never thought of that.

Forbes was the first to come around. His eyelids twitched for a few minutes, and then he popped his eyes open.

“Hey!” he shouted. “What’s going on?”

He swung his legs over the side of the couch and tried to stand, collapsing almost immediately when his bad foot hit the deck.

“Forgot all about this baby,” he murmured, looking down at his bandaged foot.

“I didn’t,” Dr. Phelps said. “I thought I might have to amputate a few toes, but...”

“What?” Forbes shouted.

“But I don’t think that’ll be necessary now. Just keep your foot out of the refrigerator.”

“I still can’t feel anything down there,” Forbes said.

“It’ll take a little while,” Dr. Phelps answered. “But you’ll be all right.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Forbes said. “Thanks a lot.”

“Thank Ted,” Dr. Phelps said. “If he hadn’t got us to the supplies, it wouldn’t have mattered how many toes you lost.”

“Then we’re here? We’re in Mare Imbrium?”

“Yes.”

Forbes opened his mouth wide and shouted, “Yippee-e-e-e-e-e!”

A new voice joined the group. “Never mind the celebrating,” it said. “Check the ship for leakage.”

“George,” Forbes said, “George, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Merola said dryly. He looked at the gaping hole in the deck and shook his head sadly. “That deck sure looks charming.”

For no good reason, the men all began to laugh.

They had a good supper, feasting on food they took from the yellow supply rocket. Before they ate, they replaced their worn batteries with new ones from the dump.

Merola shook his head again while they were eating.

“I’ll never understand it. This ship looks as if it’s been through a clothes wringer — and yet there are only small leaks which we can repair at our leisure. A miracle.”

“No miracle,” Forbes said. “Engineering skill.”

“The deuce you say!”

“The only real miracle is the fact that you’re still alive, George. With that head wound and the heat...”

“Aw, my head feels fine,” Merola protested. “And what’s a little sunburn?”

Dr. Gehardt nodded his head and said, “I think I’m very happy.”

“Well, don’t you know, Doc?”

“Yes, yes, I am very happy. We can stay on the Moon now. We are all healthy, and there is plenty to eat and drink, and enough materials to build our base. Yes, I am happy.”

“We’ll have to get started on a power plant right away,” Merola said. “Rig up some system to capture and utilize solar energy. I’d say the plant is one of the most...”

“The plant!” Ted shouted.

“The plant!” Forbes echoed. “My space suit. What’d you do with it?” He leaped to his feet, collapsing back into his chair as his foot gave way under him. “Don’t just stand there. The plant!”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Dr. Phelps asked.

Ted shoved his chair back and sprang across the cabin, almost falling through the hole in the deck. He began tossing space suits around like sacks of old rags, looking for Forbes’s suit.

“That’s it,” Forbes yelled, “that’s the one. It’s in the pocket. Down near the knee.”

Ted reached into the pocket greedily, and then pulled out his hand slowly. He stared down at the bit of green on his palm, crossing the cabin and standing near the table.

“This is our plant,” he said.

Dr. Phelps showed mild interest. “Very nice.”

“We found it outside,” Forbes said calmly.

“Well, it’s very nice,” Dr. Phelps said. “Especially since you found it...” He stopped short, his eyes widening. “OUTSIDE? Did you say outside?”

“Yes, on our trip to the supplies.”

“Great heavens, let me see that.” He took the plant gingerly, turning it over between thumb and forefinger. “Life, Fred,” he said. “Life!”

Merola sat dumfounded, looking at the plant’s small, shriveled roots.

“Life,” Dr. Gehardt echoed. “The first life found on our new outpost.”

Dr. Phelps moved a glass to the center of the table and dropped the plant into the water. It floated for an instant, and then sank to the bottom of the glass, the water magnifying it.

The men finished their meal in silence, each man watching the plant, almost as if they expected it to start talking at any moment.

After supper, they contacted the Space Station by radio. Merola told the whole story to General Pepper, pausing only to catch his breath between long paragraphs. When he’d finished, the general asked, “And you think you can hold out for six months?”

“Six months?” Merola began chuckling softly. “Pardon me, sir, but we can hold out for six years. Man is on the Moon to stay.”

“Good. Excellent. Wonderful. By thunder, Merola, that’s... that’s...” The general paused, and they heard him shout to someone, “Did you hear that, Charlie? Get on your confounded relay and broadcast that to Earth. Tell them the crew is safe and the Moon is ours. Tell them... tell them this is just the beginning. By jove, tell them... tell them... what are you standing there for, Charlie? Get moving.”