Part 16 (1/2)

Sally looked at him with soft eyes. It wasn't really his job, this worrying. The top-level brains of the armed forces were struggling with it. They were trying everything from redesigned rocket motors to really radical notions. But there wasn't anything promising yet.

”What's really needed,” said Sally regretfully, ”is a way for s.h.i.+ps to go up to the Platform and not have to come back.”

”Sure!” said Joe ironically. Then he said, ”Let's go down!”

They started down the long, winding ramp which led between the two skins of the Shed's wall. It was quite empty, this long, curving, descending corridor. It was remarkably private. In a place like the Shed, with frantic activity going on all around, and even at Major Holt's quarters where Sally lived and Joe was a guest, there wasn't often a chance for them to talk in any sort of actual privacy.

But Joe went on, scowling. Sally went with him. If she seemed to hang back a little at first, he didn't notice. Presently she shrugged her shoulders and ceased to try to make him notice that n.o.body else happened to be around. They made a complete circuit of the Shed within its wall, Joe staring ahead without words.

Then he stopped abruptly. His expression was unbelieving. Sally almost b.u.mped into him.

”What's the matter?”

”You had it, Sally!” he said amazedly. ”You did it! You said it!”

”What?”

”The touch of genius!” He almost babbled. ”s.h.i.+ps that can go up to the Platform and not have to come back! Sally, you did it! You did it!”

She regarded him helplessly. He took her by the shoulders as if to shake her into comprehension. But he kissed her exuberantly instead.

”Come on!” he said urgently. ”I've got to tell the gang!”

He grabbed her hand and set off at a run for the bottom of the ramp. And Sally, with remarkably mingled emotions showing on her face, was dragged in his wake.

He was still pulling her after him when he found the Chief and Haney and Mike in the room at Security where they were practically self-confined, lest their return to Earth become too publicly known. Mike was stalking up and down with his hands clasped behind his back, glum as a miniature Napoleon and talking bitterly. The Chief was sprawled in a chair. Haney sat upright regarding his knuckles with a thoughtful air.

Joe stepped inside the door. Mike continued without a pause: ”I tell you, if they'll only use little guys like me, the cabin and supplies and crew can be cut down by tons! Even the instruments can be smaller and weigh less! Four of us in a smaller cabin, less grub and air and water--we'll save tons in cabin-weight alone! Why can't you big lummoxes see it?”

”We see it, Mike,” Haney said mildly. ”You're right. But people won't do it. It's not fair, but they won't.”

Joe said, beaming, ”Besides, Mike, it'd bust up our gang! And Sally's just gotten the real answer! The answer is for s.h.i.+ps to go up to the Platform and not come back!”

He grinned at them. The Chief raised his eyebrows. Haney turned his head to stare. Joe said exuberantly: ”They've been talking about arming s.h.i.+ps with guided missiles to fight with. Too heavy, of course. But--if we could handle guided missiles, why couldn't we handle drones?”

The three of them gaped at him. Sally said, startled, ”But--but, Joe, I didn't----”

”We've got plenty of hulls!” said Joe. Somehow he still looked astonished at what he'd made of Sally's perfectly obvious comment.

”Mike's arranged for that! Make--say--six of 'em into drones--s.p.a.ce barges. Remote-controlled s.h.i.+ps. Control them from one manned s.h.i.+p--the tug! We'll ride that! Take 'em up to the Platform exactly like a tug tows barges. The tow-line will be radio beams. We'll have a s.p.a.ce-tow up, and not bother to bring the barges back! There won't be any landing rockets! They'll carry double cargo! That's the answer! A s.p.a.ce tug hauling a tow to the Platform!”

”But, Joe,” insisted Sally, ”I didn't think of----”

The Chief heaved himself up. Haney's voice cut through what the Chief was about to say. Haney said drily: ”Sally, if Joe hadn't kissed you for thinking that up, I would. Makes me feel mighty dumb.”

Mike swallowed. Then he said loyally, ”Yeah. Me too. I'd've made a two-ton cargo possible--maybe. But this adds up. What does the major say?”

”I--haven't talked to him. I'd better, right away.” Joe grinned. ”I wanted to tell you first.”

The Chief grunted. ”Good idea. But hold everything!” He fumbled in his pocket. ”The arithmetic is easy enough, Joe. Cut out the crew and air and you save something.” He felt in another pocket. ”Leave off the landing rockets, and you save plenty more. Count in the cargo you could take anyhow”---- he searched another pocket still----”and you get forty-two tons of cargo per s.p.a.ce barge, delivered at the Platform. Six drones--that's 252 tons in one tow! Here!” He'd found what he wanted. It was a handkerchief. He thrust it upon Joe. ”Wipe that lipstick off, Joe, before you go talk to the major. He's Sally's father and he might not like it.”