Destination Moon

by Robert A. Heinlein

  Traub did not answer.

  Barnes waited, while a minute coursed by. Finally he -- said in a weary voice, "Co-pilot-swing to blast forward. All hands, prepare for departure."

  Traub suddenly spoke up. "That's what we came for, wasn't it? To land on the Moon? Well, let's land the damn thing!"

  Barnes caught his breath. "Good boy! Co-pilot, cancel that last. Steady ship for deceleration. Sing out when you see Earth."

  "Aye aye, sir!"

  "There's Earth!"

  Barnes glanced up, saw, Terra pictured in the TV screen, rising behind a wall of mountains. Bówles went on, "Better land, Jim. You'll never get over those moun -- tains."

  Barnes did not argue; their altitude was barely three miles now. He shouted, "Stand by. Red, start swinging as soon as I cut off."

  "Right!"

  -- "Fire!" He stabbed the button. This maneuver was manual, intended only to stop their forward motion. He watched -- his ground-speed radar while the -- ship shivered-nine-tenths...seven...five...four.;. three...two...one...six-hundredths. He jerked his finger off just before it dropped to zero and prayed that a mushy cutoff would equal his anticipation

  He started to shout to Bowles, but the ship was already swinging. -- -- --

  Earth and the horizon swung up in the TV screen and out of sight. --

  For a crawling ten seconds, while they fell straight down, the Luna crept into position for a tail-first landing. They were less than three miles up -- now. Barnes shifted scale from miles to feet and started his prediction.

  Bowles beat him to an answer. "Contact in seventy-two seconds, Skipper."

  Barnes relaxed. "See the advantage of a Type 'B' landing, Doe," he remarked cheerfully. "No hurry-just like an elevator."

  "Quit gabbing and get us down," Corley answered taut1y~ --

  "Right," Barnes agreed. "Co-pilot, predict the blast altitude."-- His own hands were busy to the same end.

  Bowles answered, "Jim, yOu going manual or automatic?"

  "Don't know yet." Automatic firing was quicker, possibly more certain-but that mushy cutoff could bounce them like a pingpong ball. He steadied crosshairs on his autopilot display and read the answer: "Blast at five two oh feet. What do you get, Red?"

  "Check." Bowles added, "That's less than three seconds blast, Jim. Better make it automatic."

  "Tend to your knitting."

  "My mistake."

  Nearly forty seconds passed and they had fallen to eleven thousand feet before he decided. "Power plant, set for manual landing. Co-pilot, cover me at five hun

  dred feet."

  "Jim, that's too late," Bowles protested.

  "You will be covering me all of a tenth of a second -- after I should fire."

  Bowles subsided. Barnes grabbed a glance at the TV screen; the ground under them seemed level and there was no perceptible drift. He looked back at his board. "Correction-cover at five ten."

  "Five ten-right."

  The seconds clicked past; he had his finger poised over the button when Bowles shouted, "Jim-look at the screen!"

  He looked up-the Luna, still carrying a trifle of drift, was now over a long crack, or riM-and they were about to land in it.

  Barnes jabbed the button.

  He let up at once; the Luna coughed to silence. The rill, canyon, or crevasse was still in sight but no longer centered. "Co-pilot-new prediction!"

  "What happened?" Corley demanded. --

  "Quiet!"

  "Prediction," Bowles chanted, "blast 'at-at three nine oh."

  Barnes was adjusting verniers for his own prediction as Bowles reported. "Check," he answered. "Cover at three seven oh." He threw one glance at the TV screen. The crevasse was toward the edge of the screen; the ground below looked fairly smooth. Unquestionably the ship had a slight drift. All he could do was hope that the gyros would -- keep them from toppling. "Brace for crash!"

  480 -- 450 -- 400 -- He jabbed the button.

  The terrible pressure shoved his bead back; he lost sight of the altimeter. He caught it again -- 190 -- 150 -- 125 -- At "fifty" he snatched his finger away and prayed.

  The jet cut off sloppily as always. A -- grinding jar slammed him more deeply into the cushions The ship lurched like an unsteady top-and stayed upright.

  Barnes found that he had been -- holding his breath a long time. --

  VIII --

  Columbus found -- a pleasant climate rich land docile natives. Nowhere in our System did explorers find conditions friendly to men-and -- nowhere was this more brutally true than on our nearest neighbor.

  -- Farquharson, Ibid., III: 420

  Barnes felt dazed, as if wakening from a confusing dream. Bowles' voice recalled him to the present. "Jacks are down, skipper. Unclutch the gyros?"

  He pulled himself together. "Check our footing first. I'll-Say! We're on the Moon!" Frantically he unstrapped.

  "We sure are!" answered Bowles. "A fine landing, Jim. I was scared."

  "It was terrible, and you know it."

  "We're alive, aren't we? Never mind-we made it."

  Corley interrupted them. "Power plant secured."

  Barnes looked startled. "Oh, sure. Traub, your department okay?"

  Mannie answered weakly, "I guess so. I think I fainted."

  "Nonsense!" Bowles reassured him. "Come on-let's look."

  The four crowded at the portside port and stared out across an umber plain, baking under an unchecked sun, now not far from zenith. Miles away, jutting up into black, star-studded sky, were the peaks they had seen. In the middle distance was a single pock mark, a crater a 'mile or less across. Nothing else broke the flat desolation

  -- . ...endless, lifeless waste, vacuum sharp and kiln dry.

  Traub broke the silence with an awed whisper. "Gosh, what a place! How long do we stay, Mr. Barnes?"

  "Not long, Mannie." He tried to make his words carry conviction. "Doe," he went on, "let's check the mass ratio."

  "Okay, Jim."

  Bowles went to the starboard port; one glance through it and he sang out, "Hey-see this."

  They joined him. Below was the dark chasm in which they had almost landed. It ran close to the ship; one jack almost touched the edge. Barnes looked -- down into its awesome depths and felt no regret about expending mass to avoid it. -- . --

  Bowles stared at it. "I repeat, Jim, -- a fine landing."

  "Too close for comfort."

  Bowles pushed his face to the quartz and tried to see -- farther 'to right and left. "I'm turned around," he complained. "Which way is Earth?"

  "Earth is east, of course," Corley -- answered. --

  "Which way is east?"

  "Man, you certainly are confused. East is out the other port."

  "But it can't be. We looked out there first and Earth wasn't in sight." Bowles crossed back to the other port.

  "See?"

  Corley joined him. "That's east," he stated. "Look at the stars."

  Bowles looked. "But something is screwy. I saw Earth before we landed, in the screen. You saw it, didn't you, Jim?"

  "Yes, I saw it."

  "You; Doe?"

  "I was too busy. How high was it?"

  "Just rising. But I saw it."

  Corley looked at the sky, then at the mountains. "Sure, you did. And it's there-back of those mountains."

  Barnes whistled tonelessly. "That's it. I've landed us a few miles too short."

  Bowles looked whipped. "Out of line-of-sight," he said dully. "I could claim it until hell freezes-and I can't get the message back."

  Traub looked startled. "We're cut off from Earth? But I saw it, too."

  "Sure, you did," agreed Barnes, "you saw it while we had altitude. Now we're down too low."

  "Oh." Traub looked out. "But it isn't serious, is it?

  Earth is back of those mountains-but it's in the east; it will rise after a bit. How fast does the Moon turn? Twenty-eight days and something?"

  Barnes turned to Corley. "You tell him, Doe."

  "Ma
nnie-the Earth doesn't rise or set."

  "Huh?"

  "The Moon keeps the same face to the Earth all the time. From any one spot, the Earth doesn't move; it just hangs."

  "Huh?" Traub raised his hands, stared at them; it could be seen that he was visualizing it, using his fists for Earth and Moon. "Oh-I get it." He looked dismayed. "Say, that's bad. That's really bad."

  "Snap out of it, Mannie," Barnes said quickly. "If we • can't contact Earth, we'll just have to wait until we get back." He said nothing about his own fears.

  Bowles smashed a fist into a palm. "We've got to contact Earth! It doesn't matter whether we get back; four casualties is cheap. But to get a message through now-this message, that a United States vessel has landed and taken possession-can mean the salvation of the United States." He turned to Corley. "Doctor, we have enough power to -- lift us over those mountains,~ haven't we?"

  "Eh? Why, yes."

  "Then let's do it-now." He turned toward his couch. "Hold it, Red!" Bowles stopped; Barnes went on, "If we make one lift and drop, to near those mountains, you know what that does to our chances of getting back."

  "Of course! It's not important; we owe it to our country."

  "Maybe so. Maybe not." Barnes paused. "If it turns out that we don't have enough juice left to break free of -- the Moon, I'll concede your point."

  "Jim Barnes, we can't consider ourselves against the safety of our country."

  "Speak for yourself, Red. Conceded that a claim to the Moon might help out the State Department this week -- again it might not. It might stimulate Russia into going all out for space travel while the United States stumbles along as before, proud that we claimed it, but unwilling to spend real money to make it stick."

  "Jim, that's sophistry."

  "So? That's my decision. We'll try everything else first. You don't know you can't get a message through. Why don't you try?"

  "When we're not in line-of-sight? Don't be silly."

  "Earth is not far down behind those mountains. Find a place that is line-of-sight."

  "Oh. Now you make sense." Bowles looked-out at the mountains. "I wonder how far away they are?"

  "Tell you in a moment," Traub offered. "Wait till I swing the soup bowl around. -- " He started for his couch.

  "Never mind, Mannie!" put in Barnes. "No-go ahead. It won't hurt -- to know. But I wasn't talking about the mountains, Red. They are too -- far away. But if you scout around, you may find a spot from which the mountains are low enough to let you see Earth. Or you might find some hills-we can't see all around from inside here. Mannie, is it possible to take out the radio and use it outside the ship?"

  "Outside? Let me see -- The transmitter is unpressurized; I guess I could jigger it. How about power?"

  Bowles said, "Doe, how much cable can we dig up?" Barnes cut in, "Find your spot, then we'll see what's needed."

  "Right! Jim, I'll go out at once. Mannie, come with me and we'll find a spot."

  "Outside?" Traub said blankly. --

  "Sure. Don't you want to be the first man to set foot on the Moon?"

  "Uh, I guess so." Traub peered out at the blazing unfriendly surface.

  Corley got an odd look; Barnes noted it and said, "One moment, Red. Doe is entitled to the honor of being first. After all, the Corley engine made it possible."

  "Oh, sure! Doe can be first down the ladder. Let's all go."

  "I'll go later," Barnes decided. "I've got work to do."

  "As you wish. Come on, Doe."

  Corley looked shy. "Oh, I don't have to be first. We all did it, together."

  "Don't be modest. Into our suits-let's go!" Thoughts of military policy seemed to have left Bowles' mind; he was for the moment boyishly eager for adventure. He was already undogging the hatch that led down into the 'airlock.

  Barnes helped them dress. The suits were modifications of high-altitude pressure suits used by jet pilots-cumbersome, all-enclosing skins not unlike diving suits and topped off with "goldfish bowl" helmets. The helmets were silvered except for the face plates; a walkie-talkie radio, two oxygen bottles, and an instrument belt completed the main features of a suit. When they were dressed but not helmeted, Barnes said, "Stay in sight of the ship and each other. Red, when you shift from tank one to tank two, git for home and don't dawdle."

  "Aye aye."

  "I'm going now." He gasketed their helmets, leaving Córley to the last. To him he said softly, "Don't stay long.

  • I need you."

  Corley nodded. Barnes fastened the doctor's helmet,

  - then climbed up into the control room and closed the hatch. Corley waited until Barnes was clear, then said, "Check radios. Check instruments."

  "Okay, Doctor," Traub's voice sounded in his earphones.

  - "Okay here," added Bowles.

  "Ready for decompression?" They assented; Corley touched a button near the door; there came a muted whine of impellers. Gradually his suit began to lift and swell. The feeling was not new; he had practiced in their own vacuum chamber back at Mojave. Hç wondered how Traub felt; tbe first experieilce with trusting a Rube Goldberg skin could be frightening. "How are you doing, Mannie?"

  "All right."

  "The first time seems odd, I know."

  "But it's not the first time," Traub answered. "I checked these walkie-talkies in the chamber at the job."

  "If yOu gentlemen are through chatting," Bowles cut in, "you'll note that the tell-tale reads 'vacuum."

  "Eh?" Corley turned and undogged the outer door.

  He stood in the door, gazing north. The aching, sun-drenched plain stretched to a black horizon. On his right, knife sharp in the airless moonscape, was the wall of mountains they had grounded to avoid. He lifted his eyes and made out the Big Dipper, midnight clear above a dazzling, noonday desert. --

  Bowles touched his arm. "One side, Doc. I'll rig the ladder."

  "Sorry."

  Bowles linked the ends of a rope ladder to hooks outside the door. Finished, he kicked the ladder out. "Go ahead, Doe."

  "Uh, thanks." Corley felt for the first rung. It was a clumsy business in the pressure suit. Finally he knelt, grasped the threshold, got a toe in and started down.

  It was awkward, rather than hard work. Suit and all, he weighed less than forty pounds. He found it easier to lower himself by his hands alone. He could not see below his chin, but the shape of the ship let him know his progress. Finally he was even with the jets. He lowered himself a bit more, felt for the ground-and kicked his toe into the lunar soil.

  Then he was standing on it.

  He stood there a moment, his heart pounding. He was trying to realize it, take it in, and found himself unable to

  do so. He had lived the moment too many thousands of -- times in too many years of dreams. It was still a dream. A foot brushed his shoulder; he stepped back to avoid being stepped on by Traub. Soon Bowles joined them. "So this is it," the Admiral said inanely and turned slowly around. "Look, -- Mannie! Hills! Not far away."

  Corley saw that Bowles was looking under the jets to the south. The plain was broken there with a sharp eruption of rock. Corley touched Bowles' arm. "Let's get away from the ship. Here where the jets splashed is probably a bit radioactive."

  "Okay." Bowles followed him; Traub brought up the

  rear. --

  Ix Columbus had one motive; Queen Isabella had another -- Farquharson, Ibid., III: 421

  On climbing back into the control room Barnes did not immediately get to work. Instead he sat down and thought. For the last-two days, was it? three days? four days, really-he had had no chance to collect his thoughts, drop his public mask and invite his soul.

  He felt unutterably weary. He lifted his eyes to the mountains. There they stood,

  tall and forbidding, witnesses that he had accomplished his driving purpose. --

  To what end? To let Corley explore the dark outer reaches of science? To help Bowles insure the safety of western civilization-or perhaps hasten a new crisis?

&nbs
p; Or to make orphans of four kids whose old man was "a very domestic type guy" but could be shamed Into coming along?

  No, he knew it had been because Jimmy Barnes had been small for his age, clumsy with his fists, no decent

  -- clothes-so he had to make more money, boss more men, build faster planes than anyone else. He, James A. Barnes, had reached the Moon because he had never been sure of himself, --

  He wondered about Mannie's kids and his stomach was a rock inside him. -- --

  He threw off the mood and went to the radio controls, keyed the walkie-talkie circuit and called out, "This is Jim Barnes, kiddies, coming to you by courtesy of 'SLUMP,' the Super soap. Come in, come in, wherever you are!"

  "Jim!" Bowles' voice came back. "Come on out."

  "Later," Barnes answered. "Where's Doe?"

  "Right here," Corley answered. "I was just coming back."

  "Good," said Barnes. "Red, I'll leave this switched on. Sing out now and then."

  "Sure thing," Bowles agreed.

  Barnes went to the desk and -- began toting up mass reserves. An orbit computation is complicated; calculating what it takes to pull free of a planet is simple; he had a rough answer in a few minutes. --

  • He ran his hand through his hair. He still needed that haircut-and no barbers on this block. He wondered if it were true that a man's hair continued to grow after his death...

  The hatch creaked and Corley climbed into the room. "Whew!" be said. "It's good to get out of that suit. That sun is really hot."

  "Wasn't the gas expansion enough to keep you cool?"

  "Not cool enough. Those suits are hard to get around

  -- in, too, Jim-they need a lot of engineering."

  "They'll get it," Barnes answered absently, "but reengineering this ship is more urgent. Not the Corley engine, Doe; the controls. They aren't delicate enough;"

  "I know," Corley admitted. "That poor cutoff-we'll have to design a prediction for it into the autopilot, and use a feedback loop."

  Barnes nodded. "Yes, sure, after we get -- back-and if we get back." He tossed his fingers at the scientist. "Hum that through."