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That was pure irony. Because if those experiments were successful, they should mean that everybody in the world would in time become rich beyond envy.
But Joe couldn't react to the fact. He was drained and empty of emotion because his job was done and he'd lost a very flimsy hope to be one of the Platform's first crew.
He didn't really feel better until late that night, when suddenly he realized that life was real and life was earnest, because a panting man was trying to strangle Joe with his bare hands. Joe was hampered in his self-defense because a large number of battling figures trampled over him and his antagonist together. They were underneath the Platform, and Joe expected to be blown to bits any second.
11
Joe sat on the porch of Major Holt's quarters in the area next to the Shed. It was about eight-thirty, and dark, but there was a moon. And Joe had come to realize that his personal disappointment was only his personal disappointment, and that he hadn't any right to make a nuisance of himself about it. Therefore he didn't talk about the thing nearest in his mind, but something else that was next nearest or farther away still. Yet, with the Shed filling up a full quarter of the sky, and a gibbous moon new-risen from the horizon, it was not natural for a young man like Joe to speak purely of earthly things.
"It'll come," he said yearningly, staring at the moon. "If the Platform gets up day after tomorrow, it's going to take time to ferry up the equipment it ought to have. But still, somebody ought to land on the moon before too long."
He added absorbedly: "Once the Platform is fully equipped, it won't take many rocket pay loads to refill a ship's tanks at the Platform, before it can head on out."
Mathematically, a rocket ship that could leave the Platform with full fuel tanks should have fuel to reach the moon and land on it, and take off again and return to the Platform. The mathematical fact had a peculiar nagging flavor. When a dream is subjected to statistical a.n.a.lysis and the report is in its favor, a dreamer's satisfaction is always diluted by a subconscious feeling that the report is only part of the dream. Everybody worries a little when a cherished dream shows a likelihood of coming true. Some people take firm steps to stop things right there, so a romantic daydream won't be spoiled by trans.m.u.tation into prosaic fact. But Joe said doggedly: "Twenty ferry trips to pile up fuel, and the twenty-first ship should be able to refuel and go on out.
And then somebody will step out on the moon!"
He was disappointed now. He wouldn't be the one to do it. But somebody would.
"You might try for the ferry service," said Sally uneasily.
"I will," said Joe grimly, "but I won't be hoping too much. After all, there are astronomers and physics sharks and such things, who'll be glad to learn to run rockets in order to practice their specialties out of atmosphere."
Sally said mournfully: "I can't seem to say anything to make you feel better!"
"But you do," said Joe. He added grandiloquently, "But for your unflagging faith in me, I would not have the courage to bear the burdens of everyday life."
She stamped her foot.
"Stop it!"
"All right." But he said quietly, "You are a good kid, Sally. You know, it's not too bright of me to mourn."
She drew a deep breath.
"That's better! Now, I want----"
There was a gangling figure walking down the concrete path between the trim, monotonous cottages that were officers' quarters at the Shed.
Joe said sharply: "That's Haney! What's he doing here?" He called, "Haney!"
Haney's manner took on purpose. He came across the gra.s.s--the lawns around the officers' quarters contained the only gra.s.s in twenty miles.
"Hiya," said Haney uncomfortably. He spoke politely to Sally. "Hiya.
Uh--you want to get in on the party, Joe?"
"What kind?"
"The party Mike was talkin' about," said Haney. "He's set it up. He wants me to get you and a kinda--uh--undercover tip-off to Major Holt."
Joe stirred. Sally said hospitably: "Sit down. You've noticed that my father gave you full security clearance, so you can go anywhere?"
Haney perched awkwardly on the edge of the porch.
"Yeah. That's helped with the party. It's how I got here, as far as that goes. Mike's on top of the world."
"Shoot it," said Joe.
"Y'know he's been pretty bitter about things," said Haney carefully.
"He's been sayin' that little guys like him ought to be the s.p.a.cemen.
There's half a dozen other little guys been working on the Platform too.
They can get in cracks an' buck rivets an' so on. Useful. He's had 'em all hopped up on the fact that the Platform coulda been finished months ago if it'd been built for them, an' they could get to the moon an' back while full-sized guys couldn't an' so on. Remember?"
"I remember," said Sally.
"They've all been beefin' about it," explained Haney. "People know how they feel. So today Mike went and talked to one or two of 'em. An' they started actin' mysterious, pa.s.sin' messages back an' forth an' so on.
Little guys, actin' important. Security guys wouldn't notice 'em much.
Y'don't take a guy Mike's size serious, unless you know him. Then he's the same as anybody else. So the security guys didn't pay any attention to him. But some other guys did. Some special other guys. They saw those little fellas actin' like they were cookin' up somethin' fancy. An' they bit."
"Bit?" asked Sally.
"They got curious. So Mike an' his gang got confidential. An' they're going to have help sabotagin' the Platform when the next shift changes.
The midgets gettin' even for bein' laughed at, see? They're pretending their plan is that when the Platform's sabotaged--not smashed, but just messed up so it can't take off--the big bra.s.s will let 'em take a ferry rocket up in a hurry, an' get it in orbit, an' use it for a Platform until the big Platform can be mended an' sent up. Once they're up there, there's no use tryin' to stop the big Platform. So it can go ahead."
Joe said dubiously: "I think I see...."
"Mike and his gang of little guys are bein' saps--on purpose. If anybody's goin' to pull some fast stuff, next shift change--that's the time everybody's got to! Last chance! Mike and his gang don't know what's gonna happen, but they sure know when! They're invitin' the real saboteurs to make fools of 'em. And what'll happen?"
Joe said drily: "The logical thing would be to feel sorry for the big guys who think they're smarter than Mike."
"Uh-huh," said Haney, deadly serious. "Mike's story is there's half a dozen rocket tubes already loaded. They're goin' to fire those rockets between shifts. The Platform gets shoved off its base an' maybe dented, and so on. Mike's gang say they got the figures to prove they can go up in a ferry rocket an' be a Platform, and the big bra.s.s won't have any choice but to let 'em."
Sally said: "I don't think they know how the big bra.s.s thinks."
Haney and Joe said together, "No!" and Joe added: "Mike's not crazy! He knows better! But it's a good story for somebody who doesn't know Mike."
Haney said in indignation: "I came out here to ask the Major to help us.
The Chief's gettin' a gang together, too. There's some Indians of his tribe that work here. We can count on them for plenty of rough stuff.
And there's Joe and me. The point is that Mike's stunt makes it certain that everything busts loose at a time we can know in advance. If the Major gives us a free hand, and then in the last five minutes takes his own measures--so they can't leak out ahead of time and tip off the gangs we want to get--we oughta knock off all the expert saboteurs who know the weak spots in the Platform. For instance those who know that thermite in the gyros would mess everything up all over again."
Joe said quietly: "But Major Holt has to be told well in advance about all this! That's absolute!"
"Yeah," agreed Haney. "But also he has got to keep quiet--not tell anybody else! There've been too many leaks already about too many things. You know that!"
Joe said: "Sally, see if you can get your father to come here and talk.
Haney's right. Not in his office. Right here."