Collected Stories Of Arthur C. Clarke (69 page)

‘But that’s ridiculous! We’ve had peace for more than half a century. Surely you don’t think that the Federation would be mad enough to start anything?’

‘Who knows just what the Federation is up to? It’s dealing with the most dangerous commodity in the universe – human idealism. Out there on Mars and the moons of Jupiter and Saturn are the finest brains in the Solar System, fired with all the pride and the sense of power that the crossing of real space has given to man.

‘They’re not like us Earthbound planet-grubbers. Oh, I know we’re on the Moon and all that but what’s the Moon now but Earth’s attic? Forty years ago it was the frontier and men risked their lives reaching it – but today the theatre in Tycho City holds two thousand!

‘The real frontier’s out beyond Uranus and it won’t be long before Pluto and Persephone are inside it – if they’ve not been reached already. Then the Federation will have to spend its energies elsewhere and it will think about reforming Earth. That’s what the Government’s afraid of.’

‘Well, and we never knew you were interested in politics! Sid, fetch the Doctor his soap-box.’

‘Don’t take any notice of him, Doc,’ said Jamieson. ‘Let’s have the rest of your idea. After all, we’re on quite good terms with the Federation. Their last scientific delegation left only a few months ago and a darn nice crowd they were too. I got an invitation to Mars I want to use as soon as the Director will let me go. You don’t think they would declare war, or anything crazy like that? What good would it do to smash up Earth?’

‘The Federation’s much too sensible to try anything of the sort. Remember, I said they were idealists. But they may feel that Earth hasn’t been taking them seriously enough and that’s the one thing that reformers can’t tolerate. However, the main cause of trouble is this haggling over the uranium supply.’

‘I don’t see what that’s got to do with
us
,’ said Wheeler. ‘If there is a fight I hope they leave the Moon out of it.’

Molton said thoughtfully, ‘Haven’t you heard?’

‘Heard what?’ asked Wheeler, an uncomfortable sensation creeping up his spine.

‘They say uranium has been found on the Moon at last.’

‘
That
story! It’s been going around for years.’

‘I think there’s something in it this time. I’ve had it from pretty reliable sources.’

‘So have I,’ put in Jamieson unexpectedly. ‘Isn’t it something to do with Johnstone’s theory of satellite formation?’

‘Yes. You know Earth’s the only planet with any appreciable uranium – it’s connected in some way with its abnormally high density. Most of the uranium’s a thousand miles down in the core where no one can get at it. But when the Moon split off it took some of the core with it – and the remnant’s quite close to the surface here. The story’s going round that it’s been detected by lowering counters down drill-holes and they’ve found enough uranium to make all the deposits on Earth look like very small stuff.’

‘I see,’ said Wheeler slowly. ‘If that’s true the Federation will be asking for increased supplies.’

‘And those nervous old women down on Earth will be afraid to let them have any,’ interjected Jamieson.

‘Well, why should they?’

‘Surely that’s easy enough to answer. Earth’s requirements are static – while the Federation’s are increasing with each new planet that colonised.’

‘And you think the Federation might try to grab any lunar deposits before Earth could get there?’

‘Exactly – and if we are in the way we might get hurt. That would upset both sides very much but it wouldn’t be much compensation to us.’

‘This is just what used to happen a hundred and fifty years ago back on Earth, when gold and diamonds were valuable. Claim-jumping, they used to call it. Funny thing, history.’

‘But supposing the Federation
did
seize a bit of the Moon – how could they hold it so far from their bases? Remember, there aren’t any weapons left nowadays.’

‘With the legacy of the two World Wars it wouldn’t take long to make some, would it? Most of the finest scientists in the Solar System belong to the Federation. Suppose they took a big space-ship and put guns or rocket torpedoes on it. They could grab the whole Moon and Earth couldn’t push them off. Especially when they’d got hold of the uranium and cut off Earth’s supplies.’

‘You should be writing science fiction, Doc! Battleships of Space and all that sort of thing! Don’t forget to bring in the death-rays!’

‘It’s all right for you to laugh but you know perfectly well that with atomic power it
is
possible to put enough energy into a beam to do real damage. No one’s tried it yet as far as we know – because there wasn’t much point. But if they ever want to …’

‘He’s right, Con. How do we know what’s been going on in the Government labs for the last generation? I hadn’t thought about it before but it rather frightens me. You
do
think of the nicest things, Doc.’

‘Well, you asked for my theories and you’ve got ’em. But I can’t stand here all day talking.
Some
people in this establishment have work to do.’ The old astronomer picked up his plates and wandered off toward his office, leaving the two friends in a somewhat disturbed frame of mind.

Jamieson gazed glumly at the telescope while Wheeler looked thoughtfully at the lunar landscape outside the dome. He ran his fingers idly along the transparent plastic of the great curving wall. It always gave him a thrill to think of the pressures that wall was withstanding – and the uncomfortable things that would happen if it ever gave way.

The view from the Observatory was famous throughout the entire Solar System. The plateau on which it had been built was one of the highest points in the great lunar mountain range which the early astronomers had called the Alps. To the south the vast plain so inappropriately named the
Mare Imbrium
– Sea of Rains – stretched as far as the eye could reach.

To the southeast the solitary peak of the volcanic mountain Pico jutted above the horizon. East and west ran the Alps, merging on the eastern side of the Observatory into the walled plain of Plato. It was nearly midnight and the whole vast panorama was lit by the brilliant silver light of the full Earth.

Wheeler was just turning away when the flash of rockets far out across the Sea of Rains attracted his notice. Officially no ship was supposed to fly over the northern hemisphere, for the brilliant glare of a rocket exhaust could ruin in a second an exposure that might have taken hours, even days, to make. But the ban was not always obeyed, much to the annoyance of the Observatory directorate.

‘Wonder who that blighter is?’ growled Wheeler. ‘I sometimes wish we
did
have some guns on the Moon. Then we could shoot down trippers who try to wreck our programme.’

‘I call that a really charitable thought. Maybe Tech Stores can fix you up – they keep everything.’

‘Except what you happen to want. I’ve been trying to get a Hilger magnitude tabulator for the last month. “Sorry, Mr Wheeler, might be on the next consignment.” I’d see the Director about it if I weren’t in his bad books.’

Jamieson laughed. ‘Well, if you must compose somewhat – er – personal limericks better not type them out next time. Stick to the old oral tradition like the ancient troubadours – it’s much safer. Hello, what’s he up to?’

The last remark was prompted by the manoeuvres of the distant ship. It was losing height steadily, its main drive cut off, only the vertical jets cushioning its fall.

‘He’s going to land! Must be in trouble!’

‘No – he’s quite safe. Oh,
very
pretty! That pilot knows his stuff!’

Slowly the ship fell out of sight below the rim of the mountains, still keeping on a level keel.

‘He’s down safely. If he’s not there’ll be a record firework display in just about ten seconds and we’ll feel the shock over here.’

With a mingling of anxiety and morbid expectation the two men waited for a minute, eyes fixed on the horizon. Then they relaxed. There had been no distant explosion, no trembling of the ground underfoot.

‘All the same, he may be in trouble. We’d better ask Signals to give him a call.’

‘OK – let’s go.’

The Observatory transmitter, when they reached it, was already in action. Someone else had reported a ship down beyond Pico and the operator was calling it on the general lunar frequency. ‘Hello, ship landing near Pico – this is Astron calling. Are you receiving me? Over.’

The reply came after a considerable interval, during which the call was repeated several times. ‘Hello, Astron, receiving you clearly. Pass your message please. Over.’

‘Do you need any assistance? Over.’

‘No thank you. None at all. Out.’

‘OK. Astron out.’

The operator switched off his carrier and turned to the others with a gesture of annoyance. ‘That’s a nice polite answer for you! Translated into English it means “Mind your own business. I won’t give you my call sign. Good-day.”’

‘Who do you think he is?’

‘No doubt about it. Government ship.’

Jamieson and Wheeler looked at each other with a simultaneous surmise. ‘Maybe the doc was right, after all.’

Wheeler nodded in assent. ‘Mark my words, pardner,’ he said, ‘there’s uranium in them thar hills. And I wish there weren’t!’

II

During the next two weeks ship after ship dropped down beyond Pico and, after an initial outburst of speculation, the astronomers ceased to comment on the sight. Quite obviously something important was going on out in the Sea and the theory of the uranium mine was generally accepted because nobody could think of a better.

Presently the Observatory staff began to take their energetic neighbours for granted and forgot about them except when rocket glare fogged important photographic plates. Then they went storming in to see the Director, who calmed them down as best he could and promised to make the appropriate representations in the proper quarters.

With the coming of the long lunar day Jamieson and Wheeler settled down to the tedious work of analysing the data they had collected during the night. It would be fourteen days before they saw the stars again and could make any further observations. There was plenty to do, for an astromomer spends only a very small portion of his time actually working with his instruments. The most important part of his life is spent sitting at a desk piled with sheets of paper, which rapidly become covered with mathematical calculations or doodles, according to the flow of inspiration.

Though both Wheeler and Jamieson were young and keen, an unbroken week of this was quite enough for them. In the slow cycle of lunar time it was generally realised that tempers began to get frayed around midday and from then until just before nightfall there was usually something of an exodus from the Observatory.

It was Wheeler who suggested they take one of the Observatory tractors and head toward Pico on a voyage of exploration. Jamieson thought it was an excellent scheme though the idea was not as novel to him as to his friend. Trips out into the Sea of Rains were a popular diversion among the astronomers when they felt they had to get away from their colleagues.

There was always the chance of finding something interesting in the way of minerals or vegetation but the main attraction was the superb scenery. Also there was a certain amount of adventure and even danger about the enterprise that gave it an additional charm. Not a few tractors had been lost and although rigorous safety precautions were enforced there was always a chance that something might go wrong.

The almost complete absence of any atmosphere on the Moon had made economical flying impossible since rockets could not be used for journeys of only a few score miles. So practically all short-range lunar travel was done in the powerful electric tractors universally known as
Caterpillars
or, more briefly, ‘cats’.

They were really small space-ships mounted on broad tracks that enabled them to go anywhere within reason, even over the appallingly jagged surface of the Moon. On fairly smooth terrain they could do up to eighty miles an hour but normally they were lucky to manage half that speed. The low gravity enabled them to climb fantastic slopes and they could if necessary haul themselves out of vertical pits by means of their built-in winches. One could live in the larger models for months at a time in reasonable comfort.

Jamieson was a more-than-expert driver and knew the road down the mountains perfectly. As lunar highways went it was one of the best and carried a good deal of traffic between the Observatory and the port of Aristillus. Nevertheless for the first hour Wheeler felt that his hair would never lie down again.

It usually took newcomers to the Moon a long time to realise that slopes of one-in-one were perfectly safe if treated with respect. Perhaps it was just as well that Wheeler was a novice for Jamieson’s technique was so unorthodox that it would have filled a more experienced passenger with real alarm.

Why Jamieson was such a desperate driver was a paradox that had caused much discussion among his colleagues. Normally he was painstaking and careful, even languid in his movements. No one had ever seen him really annoyed or excited. Many people thought him lazy but that was a libel. He would spend weeks working out a theory until it was absolutely watertight – and then would put it away for two or three months to have another look at it later.