Collected Stories Of Arthur C. Clarke (70 page)

Yet once at the controls of a cat this quiet and peaceloving astronomer became a daredevil driver who held the unofficial record for almost every tractor drive in the northern hemisphere. More than likely the explanation lay in a boyhood desire to be a space-ship pilot, a dream that had been foiled by physical disability.

They shot down the last foothills of the Alps and out into the Sea of Rains like a miniature avalanche. Now that they were on lower ground Wheeler began to breathe again, thankful to have left the vertiginous slopes behind. He was not so pleased when with a colossal crash Jamieson drove the tractor off the road and out into the barren plain.

‘Hey, where are you going?’ he cried.

Jamieson laughed at his consternation. ‘This is where the rough stuff begins. The road goes southwest to Aristillus here and we want to get to Pico. So from now on we’re in country where only half a dozen tractors have ever been before. To cheer you up I might say Ferdinand is one of them.’

‘Ferdinand’ was now plunging ahead at twenty miles an hour with a swaying motion Wheeler found rather disconcerting. If he had lived in an age that had known of ships he might have been familiar with it.

The view was disappointing, as it always is at ‘sea’ level on the Moon, owing to the nearness of the horizon. Pico and all the more distant mountains had sunk below the skyline and the plain ahead looked uninviting as it lay in the blazing sun. For three hours they forged steadily across it, passing tiny craterlets and yawning crevasses that seemed of indefinite depth.

Once Jamieson stopped the tractor and the two men went out in their space-suits to have a look at a particularly fine specimen. It was about a mile wide and the Sun, now nearly at the zenith, was shining straight into it. The bottom was quite flat as though, when the rock had split, lava had flowed in from the depths beneath and solidified. Wheeler found it very difficult to judge just how far away the floor was.

Jamieson’s voice came over the suit radio. ‘See those rocks down there?’

The other strained his eyes and could barely make out a few markings on the apparently smooth surface far below.

‘Yes, I think I see the ones you mean. What about them?’

‘How big would you say they are?’

‘Oh, I don’t know – maybe a yard across.’

‘Hmmm. See the smaller one near the side?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, that isn’t a rock. That was a tractor that missed the bend.’

‘Good Lord! How? It’s plain enough.’

‘Yes, but this is midday. Toward evening, when the Sun’s low, it’s the easiest thing in the world to mistake a shadow for a crevasse – and the other way round.’

Wheeler was very quiet as they walked back to their machine. Perhaps, after all, they had been safer in the mountains.

At length the great rock mass of Pico came once more into sight until presently it dominated the landscape. One of the most famous landmarks on the Moon it rose sheer out of the Sea of Rains, from which, ages ago, volcanic action had extruded it. On Earth it would have been completely unclimbable. Even under one-sixth of Earth’s gravity only two men had ever reached its summit. One of them was still there.

Moving slowly over the jagged terrain the tractor skirted the flanks of the mountain. Jamieson was searching for a place where the cliffs could be scaled so they could get a good view out over the Sea. After travelling several miles he found a spot that met with his approval.

‘Climb those cliffs? Not on your life!’ expostulated Wheeler when Jamieson explained his plan of action. ‘Why, they’re practically vertical and half a mile high!’

‘Don’t exaggerate,’ retorted the other. ‘They’re quite ten degrees from the vertical. And it’s so easy to climb here, even in a suit. We’ll be tied together and if one of us falls the other can still pull him up with one hand. You don’t know what it’s like until you’ve tried.’

‘That’s true of all forms of suicide. Oh, all right – I’m game if you are.’

Reluctantly Wheeler climbed into his space-suit and followed his friend through the airlock. Jamieson was carrying a small telescope, a long nylon rope and other climbing equipment, which he draped around Wheeler on the pretext that, as he would have to go ahead, his hands had better be free.

Seen from close quarters the cliffs were even more forbidding. They seemed not merely vertical but overhanging and Wheeler wondered how his friend intended to tackle them. Secretly he hoped the whole campaign would be called off.

It was not to be. After a brief survey of the rock face Jamieson tied one end of the rope around his waist and, with a short run, leaped toward a projection thirty feet up the face of the cliff. He caught it with one hand, transferred his grip to the other and hung for a while, admiring the view. Since he weigh only forty pounds with all his equipment this was not as impressive a performance as it would have been on Earth. However, it served its purpose of reassuring Wheeler.

After a while Jamieson grew tired of hanging by one arm and brought the other into action. With incredible speed he clambered up the face of the cliff until he was fully a hundred feet above the ground. Here he found a ledge that was to his liking as it was every bit of twelve inches wide and enabled him to lean back against the rock face.

He switched on his headset and called down. ‘Hello, Con! Ready to come up?’

‘Yes. What do you want me to do?’

‘Is the rope tied around you?’

‘Just a minute. OK.’

‘Right! Up we go!’

Jamieson started to haul in the rope and grinned at the other’s sudden exclamation of surprise as he found himself hoisted unceremoniously into the air. When he had been lifted twenty or thirty feet Wheeler recovered his poise and began to climb the rope himself, so that as a result of their joint efforts it was only a few seconds before he had reached the ledge.

‘Easy enough, isn’t it?’

‘So far – but it still looks a long way.’

‘Then just keep on climbing and don’t bother to look. Hold on here until I call you again. Don’t move until I’m ready – you’re my anchor in case I fall.’

After half an hour Wheeler was amazed to find how far they had risen. The tractor was no more than a toy at the foot of the cliffs and the horizon was many miles away. Jamieson decided they were high enough and began to survey the plain with his telescope. It was not long before he found the object of their search.

About ten miles away the largest space-ship either of them had ever seen lay with the sunshine glinting on its sides. Close to it was an enormous hemispherical structure rising out of the level plain. Through the telescope men and machines could be seen moving around its base. From time to time clouds of dust shot into the sky and fell back to the ground again as if blasting were in progress.

‘Well, there’s your mine,’ said Wheeler after a long scrutiny.

‘It doesn’t look much like a mine to me,’ replied the other. ‘I’ve never seen a lunar mine covered over like that. It almost looks as if a rival observatory is starting up. Maybe we’re going to be driven out of business.’

‘We can reach it in half an hour, whatever it is. Shall we go over to have a look?’

‘I don’t think it would be a very wise thing to do. They might insist on our staying.’

‘Hang it all, there isn’t a war on yet and they’d have no right to detain us. The Director knows where we are and would raise hell if we didn’t come back.’

‘Not in your case, my lad. However, I guess you’re right. They can only shoot us. Let’s go.’

Climbing down the cliff, unlike a similiar operation on Earth, was easier than going up it. Each took turns lowering the other to the full length of the rope, then scrambling down the cliff face himself, knowing that even if he slipped the other could easily check his fall. In a remarkably short time they had reached level ground again and the faithful Ferdinand set out once more across the plain.

An hour later, having been delayed by a slight mistake in bearings for which each blamed the other, they found the dome ahead of them and bore down upon it at full speed, after first calling the Observatory on their private wave length and explaining exactly what they intended to do. They rang off before anyone could tell them not to.

It was amusing to watch the commotion their arrival caused. Jamieson thought it resembled nothing so much as an ant heap that had been well stirred with a stick. In a very short time they found themselves surrounded by tractors, hauling machines and excited men in space-suits. They were forced by the sheer congestion to bring Ferdinand to a halt.

‘I suppose we had better wait for the reception committee,’ said Wheeler. ‘Ah, here it comes!’

A small man who managed to convey an air of importance even in a space-suit was forcing his way through the crowd. Presently there came a peremptory series of knocks on the outer door of the airlock. Jamieson pressed the button that opened the seal and a moment later the ‘reception committee’ was removing his helmet in the cabin.

He was an elderly sharp-featured man and he did not seem in a particularly good temper. ‘What are you doing here?’ he snapped as soon as he had escaped from the confines of his suit.

Jamieson affected surprise at such an unreasonable attitude. ‘We saw you were newcomers around here, so we came over to see how you were getting on.’

‘Who are you?’

‘We’re from the Observatory. This is Mr Wheeler – I’m Dr Jamieson. Both astrophysicists.’

‘Oh!’ There was a sudden change in the atmosphere. The reception committee became quite friendly. ‘Well, you’d better both come along to the office while we check your credentials.’

‘I beg your pardon? Since when has this part of the Moon been restricted territory?’

‘Sorry, but that’s the way it is. Come along, please.’

The two astronomers climbed into their suits and followed the other through the lock. Wheeler was beginning to feel a trifle worried and rather wished he had not suggested making this visit. Already he was visualising all sorts of unpleasant possibilities. Recollections of what he had read about spies, solitary confinement and brick walls at dawn rose up to cheer him.

One of his most valuable assets as a theoretical scientist was his powerful imagination but there were times when he felt that he could do without it. Quite a large portion of his life was spent worrying about things which might happen as a result of the scrapes into which he was continually getting. This looked as if it might be one of them.

Outside the crowd was still gathered around their tractor but it rapidly dispersed as their guide gave instructions over his radio which Jamieson and Wheeler, tuned to the Observatory wavelength, were unable to hear.

They were led to a smoothly-fitting door in the wall of the great dome and found themselves inside the space formed by the outer wall and an inner, concentric hemisphere. The two shells, as far as could be seen, were spaced apart by an intricate webbing of transparent plastic. Even the floor underfoot was made of the same substance. Looking at it closely, Wheeler came to the conclusion that it was some kind of electrical insulator.

Their guide hurried them along at almost a trot, as if he did not wish them to see more than necessary. They entered the inner dome through a small airlock, where they removed their suits. Wheeler wondered glumly when they would be allowed to retrieve them.

III

There was a smell in the air that they did not at once recognise, in spite of its familiarity. Jamieson was the first to identify it. ‘Ozone!’ he whispered to his companion, who nodded in agreement. He was going to add a remark about high voltage equipment when their guide looked back suspiciously and he desisted.

The airlock opened into a small corridor flanked by doors bearing painted numbers and such labels as
Private, Keep Out! Technical Staff Only, Dr Jones, Typists
and
Director
. At the last they came to a halt.

After a short pause a
Come In
panel glowed and the door swung automatically open. Ahead lay a perfectly ordinary office dominated by a determined-looking young man behind a very large desk. ‘Hello – who are these people?’ he asked as his visitors entered.

‘Two astronomers from the Observatory. They just dropped in by tractor. I thought we had better check up on them.’

‘Most certainly. Your names, please?’

There followed a tedious quarter of an hour while the Director took down particulars and finally called the Observatory. Jamieson and Wheeler breathed a sigh of relief when it was all over and everyone was satisfied that they were in fact themselves.

The young man at the imposing desk switched off the radio and regarded the two interlopers with some perplexity. Presently his brow cleared and he began to address them.

‘You realise, of course, that you are a bit of a nuisance. This is about the last place we ever expected visitors, otherwise we should have put up notices telling them to clear off. Needless to say we have means of detecting them when they do arrive – even when they don’t drive up openly as you were sensible enough to do.

‘Anyway, here you are and no harm done. You have probably guessed that this is a Government project, one that we don’t want talked about. Now you are here I suppose I had better explain to you what it is – but I want your word of honour not to repeat what I tell you.’