Rocket to Luna

The first voice was solemn. “He’s a good man, Fred. One of the best. I hope...”

“He’ll be all right. Don’t worry.”

“That heat, on top of his wound. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Ted opened his eyes. “Dr. Phelps,” he called.

The physician was alongside his couch immediately. “Baker, are you all right? How do you feel?”

“What happened?” Ted asked.

“Heat prostration. You’re lucky that you and Dan weren’t fried out there.”

Ted managed a grin. “It felt as if we were, Doctor.”

“I can imagine. How do you feel now, Baker?”

“All right, I guess. How did we get back?”

“Merola went out the minute he got your radio call. He said you’d need help. He drove the tractor back about ten minutes after he’d left the ship. You couldn’t have been very far away.”

“Is he all right?”

“He’s unconscious. He collapsed right after he carried you and Forbes aboard.”

Ted shook his head, and then sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the couch. “What now?” he asked.

“We’ve got to get out of here, Baker,” Dr. Phelps said, his eyes serious. “Our batteries are just about gone, not to mention food and water. It’s the batteries that count, though. If they go, we won’t be able to start the engines.”

“Dan — is he all right?”

“He should be coming around soon.” Dr. Phelps passed an anxious hand over his wide mouth. “Look, Baker, we’ve got to get started fast. That tractor down there, is it carrying fuel?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Do you know how to load our tanks?”

“I think so.”

“And can you take us to the fuel and supply dump?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ll have to try. We’ve got to blast off and get to the supply dump. It’s now or never, Baker. Our batteries aren’t going to wait much longer.”

Ted exhaled. “I tried to bring the ship down once, and I got us in this jam. Suppose I did it again?”

“You won’t make the same mistake twice,” Dr. Gehardt assured him.

“I don’t know. I just don’t know. Couldn’t we wait for Dan to come around? Dan knows more about...”

“Dan doesn’t know more, and we can’t afford to wait for him to gain consciousness.” Dr. Phelps seized Ted’s shoulders, and Ted could feel the bony pressure of his strong fingers. “Look, Baker, maybe you didn’t understand me. The batteries are beginning to weaken already. Once they die, we’re through. We’re stuck in Mare Crisium. Not just for today, and not just for a week. We’ll be here forever, Baker — or for as long as we can last. Do you understand? We’ve got to get out of here fast. We’ve got to get over to the supply dump.”

“I understand,” Ted said.

“Then you’ll do it?”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Baker,” Dr. Phelps said softly, “many men make mistakes. Not very many men get a chance to rectify those errors, though, no matter how much they would like it. You’re getting a second chance, Baker, a chance to get us to the supply dump and save this expedition.” He paused and cleared his throat. “We need you, Ted. We need you more than we’ve ever needed anyone before.”

Ted sat silently with his hands folded in his lap.

After a long while, he said, “Maybe we’d better start loading the fuel tanks.”

Chapter 17 New Outpost

Fueling the ship was a simple matter. They took turns out in the Sun, no man staying out longer than five minutes. In addition, they had replaced the suit’s heating units with small refrigerator units that helped ward off the penetrating heat.

The mobile tanks were practically self-unloading. All one had to do was place the long hose into the lip of the ship’s tank and then press the button on the side of the smaller tank. The liquid fuel started to flow then, and an indicator showed when the tank was empty.

In less than three hours they had the ship fueled and ready to go. That was when Ted sat down to figure out their orbit, blasting time, turnover point, and braking time.

Dr. Phelps stayed out of his way, hovering over Forbes and Merola like a mother hen over her brood. Forbes’s foot was badly frostbitten, and the doctor seemed worried about it. Merola, however, was his chief worry. The captain had not stirred since he’d come back to the ship. He lay on the couch with his arms and legs outstretched, his mouth agape, his eyes closed tightly. His breathing was weak, and his skin was pale.