Part 25 (2/2)

”Now we can give a touch of course-correction, and maybe a trace of speed....”

Rockets droned and boomed and roared outside the hull. The Earth fell away and away and presently it was behind. And they were plunging on after the Moons.h.i.+p which was very, very, very far on before them.

It was actually many hours before they reached it. They couldn't afford to overtake it gradually, because they had to have time to work in after contact. But overtaking it swiftly cost extra fuel, and they hadn't too much. So they compromised, and came up behind the Moons.h.i.+p at better than 2,000 feet per second difference in speed--they approached it as fast as most rifle-bullets travel--and all creation was blotted out by the fumes of the rockets they fired for deceleration.

Then the s.p.a.ce tug came cautiously close to the Moons.h.i.+p. Mike climbed out on the outside of the tug's hull, with the Chief also in s.p.a.ce equipment, paying out Mike's safety-line. Mike leaped across two hundred yards of emptiness with light-years of gulf beneath him. His metal soles clanked on the Moons.h.i.+p's hull.

Then the vision-screen on the tug lighted up. Lieutenant Commander Brown looked out of it, quietly grim. Joe flicked on his own transmitter. He nodded.

”_Mr. Kenmore_,” said Brown evenly, ”_I did not contact you before because I was not certain that contact could be made. How many pa.s.sengers can you take back to the Platform?_”

Joe blinked at him.

”I haven't any idea,” he said. ”But I'm going to hitch on and use our rockets to land you.”

”_I do not think it practicable_,” said Brown calmly. ”_I believe the only result of such a course will be the loss of both s.h.i.+ps with all hands. I will give you a written authorization to return on my order.

But since all my crew can't return, how many can you take? I have ten married men aboard. Six have children. Can you take six? Or all ten?_”

Then he said without a trace of emphasis, ”_Of course, none of them will be officers._”

”If I tried to turn back now, I think my crew would mutiny,” Joe said coldly. ”I'd hate to think they wouldn't, anyhow! We're going to hook on and play this out the way it lies!”

There was a pause. Then Brown spoke again. ”_Mr. Kenmore, I was hoping you'd say that. Actually--er--not to be quoted, you understand--actually, intelligent defiance has always been in the traditions of the Navy. Of course, you're not in the Navy, Kenmore, but right now it looks like the Navy is in your hands. Like a battles.h.i.+p in the hands of a tug. Good luck, Kenmore._”

Joe flicked off the screen. ”You know,” he said, winking at Mike, ”I guess Brown isn't such a bad egg after all. Let's go!”

In minutes, the s.p.a.ce tug had a line made fast. In half an hour, the two s.p.a.ce craft were bound firmly together, but far enough apart for the rocket blasts to dissipate before they reached the Moons.h.i.+p. Mike returned to the tug. A pair of the big Mark Twenty rockets burned frenziedly in emptiness.

The Moons.h.i.+p was slowed by a fraction of its speed. The deceleration was hardly perceptible.

There were more burnings. Back on Earth there were careful measurements.

A tight beam tends to attenuate when it is thrown a hundred thousand miles. It tends to! When speech is conducted over it, the lag between comment and reply is perceptible. It's not great--just over half a second. But one notices it. That lag was used to measure the speed and distance of the two craft. The prospect didn't look too good.

The s.p.a.ce tug burned rocket after rocket after rocket. There was no effect that Joe could detect, of course. It would have been like noticing the effect of single oar-strokes in a rowboat miles from sh.o.r.e.

But the instruments on Earth found a difference. They made very, very, very careful computations. And the electronic brains did the calculations which battalions of mathematicians would have needed years to work out. The electronic calculations which could not make a mistake said--that it was a toss-up.

The Moon came slowly to float before the two linked s.h.i.+ps. It grew slowly, slowly larger. The word from Earth was that considering the rockets still available in the s.p.a.ce tug, and those that should have been fired but weren't on the Moons.h.i.+p, there must be no more blasts just yet. The two s.h.i.+ps must pa.s.s together through the neutral-point where the gravities of Earth and Moon exactly cancel out. They must fall together toward the Moon. Forty miles above the lunar surface such-and-such rockets were to be fired. At twenty miles, such-and-such others. At five miles the Moons.h.i.+p itself must fire its remaining fuel-store. With luck, it was a toss-up. Safety or a smash.

But there was a long time to wait. Joe and his crew relaxed in the s.p.a.ce tug. The Chief looked out a port and observed:

”I can see the ring-mountains now. Naked-eye stuff, too! I wonder if anybody ever saw that before!”

”Not likely,” said Joe.

Mike stared out a port. Haney looked, also.

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