Part 2 (1/2)

”Russian Luna Base One announced that at 1600 Greenwich Standard Time (12:00 N EDST) a presumed s.p.a.cecraft of unknown design was damaged by Russian rockets and fell to the surface of Luna somewhere in the Mare Serenitas, some three hundred fifty miles from the Soviet base. The craft was hovering approximately four hundred miles above the surface when spotted by Soviet radar installations. Telescopic inspection showed that the craft was not--repeat: not--powered by rockets. Since it failed to respond to the standard United Nations recognition signals, rockets were fired to bring it down. In attempting to avoid the rockets, the craft, according to observers, maneuvered in an entirely unorthodox manner, which cannot be attributed to a rocket drive. A nearby burst, however, visibly damaged the hull of the craft, and it dropped toward Mare Serenitas. Armed Soviet moon-cats are, at this moment, moving toward the downed craft.

”Base Commander Colonel A. V. Gryaznov is quoted as saying: 'There can be no doubt that we shall learn much from this craft, since it is apparently of extraterrestrial origin. We will certainly be able to overpower any resistance it may offer, since it has already proved vulnerable to our weapons. The missiles which were fired toward our base were easily destroyed by our own antimissile missiles, and the craft was unable to either destroy or avoid our own missiles.'

”Further progress will be released by the Soviet Government as it occurs.”

Senator Cannon dropped the sheet of paper to his side. ”That's it. Matt, come in the bedroom; I'd like to talk to you.”

Matthew Fisher, candidate for Vice President of the United States, heaved his two-hundred-fifty-pound bulk out of the chair he had been sitting in and followed the senator into the other room. Behind them, the others suddenly broke out into a blather of conversation. Fisher's closing of the door cut the sound off abruptly.

Senator Cannon threw the newssheet on the nearest bed and swung around to face Matthew Fisher. He looked at the tall, thick, muscular man trying to detect the emotions behind the ugly-handsome face that had been battered up by football and boxing in college, trying to fathom the thoughts beneath the broad forehead and the receding hairline.

”You got any idea what this _really_ means, Matt?” he asked after a second.

Fisher's blue-gray eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and his gaze sharpened. ”Not until just this moment,” he said.

Cannon looked suddenly puzzled. ”What do you mean?”

”Well,” Fisher said thoughtfully, ”you wouldn't ask me unless it meant something more than appears on the surface.” He grinned rather apologetically. ”I'm sorry, Jim; it takes a second or two to reconstruct exactly what _did_ go through my mind.” His grin faded into a thoughtful frown. ”Anyway, you asked me, and since you're head of the Committee on s.p.a.cE Travel and Exploration--” He spread his hands in a gesture that managed to convey both futility and apology. ”The mystery s.p.a.cecraft is ours,” he said decisively.

James Cannon wiped a palm over his forehead and sat down heavily on one of the beds. ”Right. Sit down. Fine. Now; listen: We--the United States--have a s.p.a.ce drive that compares to the rocket in the same way that the jet engine compares to the horse. We've been keeping it under wraps that are comparable to those the Manhattan Project was kept under 'way back during World War II. Maybe more so. But--” He stopped, watching Fisher's face. Then: ”Can you see it from there?”

”I think so,” Fisher said. ”The Soviet Government knows that we have something ... in fact, they've known it for a long time. They don't know what, though.” He found a heavy briar in his pocket, pulled it out, and began absently stuffing it with tobacco from a pouch he'd pulled out with the pipe. ”Our s.h.i.+p didn't shoot at their base. Couldn't, wouldn't have. Um. They shot it down to try to look it over. Purposely made a near-miss with an atomic warhead.” He struck a match and puffed the pipe alight.

”Hm-m-m. The Soviet Government,” he went on, ”must have known that we had something 'way back when they signed the Greenston Agreement.”

Fisher blew out a cloud of smoke. ”They wanted to change the wording of that, as I remember.”

”That's right,” Cannon said. ”We wanted it to read that 'any advances in _rocket engineering_ shall be shared equally among the Members of the United Nations', but the Soviet delegation wanted to change that to 'any advances in _s.p.a.ce travel_'. We only beat them out by a verbal quibble; we insisted that the word 's.p.a.ce', as used, could apply equally to the s.p.a.ce between continents or cities or, for that matter, between any two points. By the time we got through arguing, the UN had given up on the Soviet amendment, and the agreement was pa.s.sed as was.”

”Yeah,” said Fisher, ”I remember. So now we have a s.p.a.ce drive that doesn't depend on rockets, and the USSR wants it.” He stared at the bowl of his briar for a moment, then looked up at Cannon. ”The point is that they've brought down one of our s.h.i.+ps, and we have to get it out of there before the Russians get to it. Even if we manage to keep them from finding out anything about the drive, they can raise a lot of fuss in the UN if they can prove that it's our s.h.i.+p.”

”Right. They'll ring in the Greenston Agreement even if the s.h.i.+p technically isn't a rocket,” Cannon said. ”Typical Soviet tactics. They try to time these things to hit at the most embarra.s.sing moments. Four years ago, our worthy opponent got into office because our administration was embarra.s.sed by the Madagascar Crisis. They simply try to show the rest of the world that, no matter which party is in, the United states is run by a bunch of inept fools.” He slapped his hand down on the newssheet that lay near him. ”This may win us the election,”

he said angrily, ”but it will do us more harm in the long run than if our worthy opponent stayed in the White House.”

”Of what avail to win an election and lose the whole Solar System,”

Fisher paraphrased. ”It looks as though the President has a hot potato.”

”'Hot' is the word. Pure californium-254.” Cannon lit a cigarette and looked moodily at the glowing end. ”But this puts us in a hole, too. Do we, or don't we, mention it on the TV debate this evening? If we don't, the public will wonder why; if we do, we'll put the country on the spot.”

Matt Fisher thought for a few seconds. Then he said, ”The s.h.i.+p must have already been having trouble. Otherwise it wouldn't have been hovering in plain sight of the Soviet radar. How many men does one of those s.h.i.+ps hold?”

”Two,” the senator told him.

”We do have more than one of those s.h.i.+ps, don't we?” Fisher asked suddenly.

”Four on Moon Base; six more building,” said Senator Cannon.

”The downed s.h.i.+p must have been in touch with--” He stopped abruptly, paused for a second, then said: ”I have an idea, Senator, but you'll have to do the talking. We'll have to convince the President that what we're suggesting is for the good of the country and not just a political trick. And we don't have much time. Those moon-cats shouldn't take more than twelve or fifteen hours to reach the s.h.i.+p.”