That part of my journal was never finished, for Lemmy, who had been quiet for some hours, suddenly spoke up. “Jet, why aren’t you reading?”
“I’ve read that book four times now. I practically know it by heart.”
“Is it a good book?”
“Yes, Lemmy, it’s always been a favourite of mine.”
“Then don’t keep it all to yourself. Read us a bit.”
“Yes, Jet,” I said eagerly, “it’ll be better than just lying here staring at the ceiling and thinking.”
“I don’t think you’d like it all that much,” said Jet.
“How do we know,” asked Lemmy, “until we’ve heard it?”
“Yes, go on, Jet,” said Mitch, “read it--some of it at least. We can have another instalment next time the light’s on.
“All right. If you really want me to.”
“What’s it called?” asked Lemmy. “Who’s it by?”
“It’s by H. G. Wells. It’s called The First Men in the Moon.”
“Oh.” I could almost visualize the change of expression that must have come over Lemmy’s face.
“Do you still want to hear it?” asked Jet quietly.
“Why not?” said Lemmy. “It might give us some clue to help us get out of this mess.”
So Jet began and, as we followed the adventures of our literary predecessors, Bedford and Cavor, our own troubles were temporarily forgotten. At the end of an hour, when the time came to put the light out, we had journeyed to the Moon in Dr Cavor’s gravity-less ship.
During the next light session Jet read to us again. This time we learnt of Cavor’s misfortunes on the Moon with the Selenites. According to Wells, the Moon supported not only life but a very advanced civilization. The two heroes of the famous novel had just been made prisoner by the Selenites when Jet declared that the time had come to put out the light and the reading would have to stop.
“Well,” came Lemmy’s voice from his bunk above, “that Bedford fellow certainly ran into a pack of trouble, didn’t he?”
“An ingenious idea, those Selenites,” I remarked.
“Thank goodness we didn’t meet up with any,” Lemmy went on. “If there’s one thing we have proved by coming up here it is that there’s no life on the Moon. None--at-- all. . .”
The reason for Lemmy’s hesitation was clear to us all.
Down in the main hold of the ship there came a light but distinct tapping.
“What in Heaven’s name is that?” I said.
“Mice,” said Lemmy nervously.
The knocking continued for at least ten seconds. Then it stopped.
“It seems to be coming from outside, down near the stern,” said Jet. I could sense him sitting up in his bunk, although none of us could see a thing.
“There it goes again,” broke in Lemmy, “on the other side this time.”
It was, and just as strong; if anything a little louder. It was as though somebody were walking round the ship and tapping it to see what it was made of. Then came a new noise, as though a drill were being used. As the rotation--if it was rotation--of the drill became faster, the pitch of the sound became higher until it suddenly cut off, leaving the sounds to die away like the echo in a cavern.
“And what kind of noise is that?” said Mitch, unable to disguise the fear in his voice.
“Quiet,” said Jet.
The knocking suddenly began again, this time obviously going all round the ship. Then, as abruptly, it ceased.
“Mitch,” said Lemmy breathlessly, “turn on the light.”
It came on and we all felt better. But none of us spoke for at least an hour.
“Whatever it was,” said Jet at last, “it must have gone away.”
“Do you think they’ll be back?” said Lemmy. “How should I know?” said Jet irritably. “Keep quiet and listen.”
13 days. The strange tapping sounds we heard 3 days ago have not been heard since. We have no idea what they were. Now there is only 1 day left. Unless we take off tomorrow, we cannot hope to reach the Earth alive. Soon, in just an hour or two, the sun will be rising over the Cape and we will have been here one full lunar day. From the Earth, the Moon will rapidly be approaching full. Hundreds of astronomers all over the world will be looking for us. We are too small to be seen but, with luck, while the sun is still low on the lunar horizon, somebody might see our long shadow and recognise it. That will tell them that we are still here. They won’t be able to help us, but at least they’ll know we haven’t wandered off into the void of space--perhaps to spend eternity as a tiny, artificial asteroid in an orbit round the sun.
The time had come for the light to be extinguished and I closed my journal and put it away in my locker. I had hardly done so when an excited cry came from Lemmy. “Hey, Jet, the televiewer!”
“What about it?” said Jet.
“It’s come on. It’s working.”
Mitch, Jet and I sprang out of our bunks and on to the floor, Jet landing only an inch or two away from me. And then came a click and a whirr as the air conditioner turned itself on.
“The power,” I said, “it must be back. The ship’s alive again.”
“The light,” cried Mitch, “try the light.”
That’s just what Jet was doing. He pressed the switch and instantly the cabin was illuminated in what seemed to us the brightest and most comforting light we had seen in years. “Lemmy,” ordered Jet, “get to the radio. See if that’s working. The rest of you get to your own controls. Check everything.”
We needed no second bidding. I went over to my control board and saw that, for the first time in fourteen Earth days, the automatic oxygen supply as well as the air conditioner was now in working order. I announced the fact that we should start cooling off soon and get back to something like normal temperature. A few moments later Mitch proclaimed that the fuel gauges were working and the indications were that the tanks were full and everything was OK.
“Thank God,” said Jet, “and not a day too soon.”
“Radio’s going,” came Lemmy’s voice from the control table. “Transmitter registers full aerial current.”
“Then see if you can contact Earth, Lemmy, for Pete’s sake.”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“Come on, Mitch,” said Jet, “let’s go right through the ship. One more thorough check. See if we’re fit for take-off.”
“I don’t see why not,” said Mitch. “All we needed was power and we’ve got it. We’re going home.” He began to laugh, almost hysterically. “We’re going home.”
Why the power should suddenly come on in this way none of us had the least idea. It was now one full lunar day and night since we had landed in the Bay, almost to the hour. Outside the ship the sun would once again be rising over Cape Laplace. It occurred to me that perhaps the lunar darkness had something to do with our power failure. It was evening when the power cut off and now that dawn was breaking outside the power had come on again. But there was no time to hold an inquest now. We had to get off the Moon and back to Earth as quickly as possible or our oxygen supply would be too low to last us the journey. I decided to discuss my theory with the others while we were coasting back home.
Meanwhile Lemmy was still trying to contact Control but without success.
Mitch and Jet had completed their inspection and declared the ship ready for take-off. But we just had to be sure that Control realised we were about to do so.
Failure to contact them would not prevent our taking off if we wished, but Control’s help was essential if we were to be sure of making a safe landing when we reached Earth.
“I’m sorry, Jet,” said Lemmy after the Captain had asked him how he was doing. “I can’t get a squeak out of ‘em.”
“You’re sure your transmitter’s OK?”
“Sure I’m sure. They can’t be listening up there.”
“Well, you can’t blame them,” said Jet. “We’re more than a week overdue.”
“But somebody
must be hearing us, somewhere. Maybe trying to contact us, too. Shall I search around the dial a bit? They’re not bound to be dead on frequency.”
“Yes, Lemmy, if you think it’s best.”
“I certainly can’t do worse than I’m doing now.”
Lemmy began to fiddle with the controls. We worked on ultra short wave as did many other stations on Earth and the slightest touch of the main control brought all kinds of speech and music out of the loudspeaker.
“This band seems pretty full,” said Lemmy; “anybody listening to any of this should hear us, always supposing they can understand English.”
We could stay on the Moon another twelve hours and still reach Earth before our oxygen supply finally gave out. But it was cutting it rather fine. And neither I, Jet nor Mitch wanted to leave it so late unless it was imperative.
“You keep right on with that radio, Lemmy. The sooner you contact Earth, the sooner we’ll get away and the happier I’ll be,” said Mitch.
“Doing my best,” came Lemmy’s reply, “but nothing I’ve heard yet is trying to get us, that’s for certain. Hullo, Earth, hullo. This is Rocketship Luna trying to contact Earth. Rocketship Luna calling from Moon. Come in please. We need to hear from you urgently.”
He positioned the control to receive and listened hopefully, but nothing was heard except what sounded to me like a programme of music from India or some other Eastern country. There seemed to be quite a lot of music of one kind or another.
“Music, music, music, nothing but music,” said Lemmy impatiently. And then, right out of the blue, came a radio announcement that caused us all to stop whatever we were doing and listen intently. Lemmy had tuned in to London; to a news broadcast. They were announcing that there could be little hope for us or our ship. According to the announcer we had taken off from the Moon on 27th October and the last radio message Control had received from us was that we would be calling again within six minutes but that nothing further was heard. Apparently a statement from the launching ground had said that we must either have crashed back on the Moon or missed the Earth entirely, in which case we would be somewhere out in space and lost forever. They announced our names, something about our lives, then changed the subject to a political one.
“What does that mean?” said Lemmy. “That we’re dead?”
“Officially, yes,” said Jet.
“Blimey. But we didn’t say we had taken off, we said we were about to take off.”
“Never mind,” said Jet. “Get back to the transmitter and keep trying. Try to raise somebody.”
There was a sudden cry from Mitch. “Hey, Doc, Lemmy, Jet, come and take a look at this.” He was standing at the control table gazing at a picture on the televiewer screen above it. In full view was the crater into which Mitch had fallen. It was slightly to one side of the ship and was completely bathed in the sunlight, although the Moon’s terminator had hardly left its eastern rim. That was no more than we would have expected to see. But the astonishing thing that had brought the shout from Mitch was what was in the crater.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Jet. “Is that what Lemmy saw during the guessing game? Is it, Lemmy? Is it?” Jet had raised his voice rather unnecessarily, as though the object sitting there in the crater was Lemmy’s fault.
“Well, you should know,” he told him. “You said you saw it yourself. You all did.”
We had, of course, but not like this, with the rising sun lighting up every detail. Before, we had only seen it as a shadow, with the pulsating light beneath it.
“That’s when it must have arrived,” I said, “during the guessing game. And it’s been sitting out there in the crater ever since. What else are we to think?”
“Then who is it?” said Mitch. “What is it?”
“It must be H. G. Wells’ lot,” said Lemmy.
“There’s only one way to find out,” said Jet. “We’ll go out there.”
“Eh?” It was Lemmy again. “But we can’t. It’s time for us to leave. We can’t spare the oxygen.”
“We’ve got a few hours yet,” said Jet.
“But you don’t know what that thing is. Or what it can do to us.”
“That’s the very reason I want to go. This is the most important thing we’ve seen since we landed here. We can’t pull out on it now. What would they think of us down on Earth?”
“But, Jet. . .” protested Lemmy.
“You willing to come with me, Mitch?” went on Jet, ignoring Lemmy’s plea.
“I’ll say,” said Mitch. “I’m all for it.”
“Then get the suits, Lemmy. Mitch and I are going out.”
Chapter 8 - WATCH YOUR STEP, EARTH MEN
The object sitting outside in the crater in which Mitch had nearly lost his life was about sixty feet in diameter and fitted the ‘bowl’ very snugly. It was, as Lemmy had said during the guessing game, doughnut-shaped, and covered by a semi-circular dome. The space ship, for that is what I took it to be, rested directly on the crater floor. Its walls were perfectly smooth; there was no kind of opening. If anybody was inside this strange craft, they made no attempt to show themselves. If anybody had come out of it, they had left no tracks behind.
Before he and Mitch entered the airlock, Jet promised not to wander out of range of the televiewer and to keep in constant radio contact. They took a camera with them.
Meanwhile Lemmy was still trying to contact base. While Jet and Mitch were in the airlock he picked up something. “Hey, Doc,” he called excitedly, “I’ve got ‘em.”
“Is it Control?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s so faint. Listen.”
I did and finally made out a weak, rather tinny voice. “Hullo, Luna--hullo,” it said.
“Blast that French station,” said Lemmy as the voice was drowned out. “Hullo, Earth, Rocketship Luna calling. From the Moon. Come in--whoever you are--come in please.”
“Weather Station XLG, calling from Greenland.” The voice was clearer now. “Calling Rocketship Luna, and if this is a joke it’s a pretty poor one.”
I thought Lemmy was going to explode. “Rocketship Luna calling Weather Station XLG. And if you think it’s a joke to be stranded on the Moon for fourteen days, you come and try it.”
“But,” came the voice, “we thought all hope for you had been abandoned.”
“It will be unless somebody does something about us, and quick,” snapped Lemmy.
“Who is it?” asked Jet over the intercom.
“Never mind,” replied Mitch impatiently. “Let’s get outside. Lemmy can handle the radio.”
“OK, then, Doc,” said Jet. “Open the door.”
“Main door opening,” I announced, and the whirr of the heavy motor filled the cabin.
“Where did you say you were, Luna?” came the faint but persistent voice from Earth.
“Where do you think?” said Lemmy. “On the Moon, of course. Been stuck up here a fortnight, Earth time, and unable to communicate due to power failure. Can you help us?”
“We’re in contact with London. Will that help you?”
“I’ll say it will. Tell them we’re trying to contact the launching ground at Luna City, Australia. Ask London to raise them and tell them to communicate with us, and say it’s urgent. Very urgent. A matter of life and death.”
By now Mitch and Jet had reached the Moon’s surface and were making their way towards the crater.
“I have you in full view,” I told them. “Does that thing look any different now you’re closer to it?”
“No, it doesn’t. It still appears to be made of metal. No visible seams or doors in the sides.”
“Check,” I told him.
“We’re going to approach it now, Doc, for a closer look.”
“Watch your step.”
“We will.”
I had no doubt that Jet would be cautious, but I wasn’t sure about Mitch. The object in the crater seemed to excite him beyond reason. “Jet,” I heard him saying, “this is the biggest t
hing that could have happened to us. This must mean there is life in other parts of the Universe.”
“Now don’t let’s go jumping to any hasty conclusions,” said Jet firmly. “We’ll just take a close look at it, get some photographs, then go back into the ship and head for home.”
Meanwhile the radio operator in Greenland came through again: “Hullo, hullo, Rocketship Luna. Weather Station XLG calling Rocketship Luna. Over.”
“Hullo, XLG,” said Lemmy cheerfully, “Luna calling.”
“Have passed your message to London who are now contacting Luna City. Keep listening out. You can expect to hear from them shortly.”
“Thank you, Greenland, thank you very much. If you’re ever in London I’ll buy you a drink.”
“We could do with it now; it’s darned cold where we are.”
“Cold!” said Lemmy. “You should come up here if you want to know what cold is. And heat too.”
“Are you all safe? Jet, Mitchell and Doc Matthews?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Glad to hear it,” replied the weather station. “Now you’d better listen out for Luna City. They’ll be calling you soon. Good luck, Luna.”
“Thanks, and thanks for your help,” said Lemony.
“Hullo, Doc--Jet calling.”
“Receiving you,” I told him. “Go ahead.”
“We’re getting very close to the crater now. Keep us in range.”
“Sure thing,” I replied.
Then came the longed-for voice of Control.
“Hullo, Luna. Hullo, Rocketship Luna. Control calling. Can you hear me? Come in please.”
Lemmy danced up and down in his excitement. “Control, it’s Control. Did you hear that, Doc? We’ve got ‘em. Hullo, Control. Lemmy calling. Lemmy Barnet calling from the Moon. Where’ve you been all this time?”
“Where have you been? What happened? Why didn’t you take off?”
“We couldn’t. The whole ship packed in. We’ve been stuck up here ever since, but we’re all right now.”
Journey Into Space Page 10
