Chapter 6 Stowaway!

A distorted voice sounded inside his helmet as soon as he dropped through the hatch. “Hurry it up, boy! Those guys on the rocket are likely tearing their hair by this time.” The voice, despite its distortion, couldn’t have belonged to anyone but a Southerner. Somehow, the mellow inflection took away from the urgency of his words.

Ted reached the taxi and climbed into the open top. The taxi was wedged tightly in the landing berth, sealing the Station from the pressure outside.

“Come on, boy, we’re late,” the voice said again.

Ted looked at the face plate of the helmet that was craned over the front seat of the taxi. The plate was darkened, and he could not make out the features behind it. He realized with sudden understanding that his own face was unrecognizable. He knew then that the pilot had probably mistaken him for Jack.

“Look,” he said into his helmet transmitter, “I’m not...”

“My friend,” the Southern voice drawled, “no excuses, please. If I don’t get you to that rocket in ten seconds flat, I’ll be back Earthside so fast...” He didn’t finish his sentence. He seemed to remember he was wasting time talking, and he stabbed his forefinger at a button in the instrument panel. Ted heard the whine of the jets behind him as the small rocket leaped away from the landing berth.

The short distance from the Station to the waiting Moon rocket seemed like a thousand miles to Ted. He drummed his gloved fingers against the cushion of his seat, his eyes scanning the stars that stared down in indifferent boredom. He fidgeted nervously, the sweat streaming down his face inside the helmet. It occurred to him once that he should make another stab at telling the taxi pilot who he was. He shrugged this aside, figuring it would only slow up the trip to the rocket — and he had to get there as soon as possible.

“Here we are, boy,” the Southerner said. “You better get in there right quick.”

Ted fairly leaped over the side of the taxi, gripping the rungs outside the air lock of the Moon rocket. Unlike the three-stage that had taken him to the Station, the Moon rocket was almost squat in design, looking like the triangular head of a rattlesnake. Its jets stuck out behind it like a row of yellowed buck teeth. Ted glanced briefly at the button in the air-lock door. He pressed it with his forefinger, and the door swung wide, admitting him to the lock. He twirled the wheel on the inside of the door, sealing the ship. He looked around the lock in confusion for several minutes. The Academy courses had never mentioned Moon rockets! He finally found two buttons set in the bulkhead, one green and one red, set above each other like the lamps in a traffic light. He pressed the green button and waited, satisfied when he heard the slow hiss of air in the lock.

The seconds dragged by slowly, tiringly. He waited until a light began blinking over the inner door of the lock, then floated quickly to the door, not stopping to remove his helmet. He twisted the heavy wheel and put his shoulder against the door, pushing it open. Quickly, he slammed the door behind him, turning the wheel on the other side.

He began loosening the toggles on his helmet as he stared around the unfamiliar cabin. A ladder ran from the deck to the overhead, leading to a closed hatch that undoubtedly opened on the control room above. At any rate, Ted assumed this smaller rocket would follow the same general design of the larger three-stage. He hesitated while he finished unfastening the toggles. He lifted his helmet off and placed it securely between the brackets on the wall.

He started for the ladder, reaching up high to grip the rungs, his feet coming up from the deck. He stopped climbing when his head was just beneath the hatch. He twisted the wheel, cursing the diabolical intelligence that had designed space ships with so many wheels to turn and unturn. He swung the wheel all the way to the left and then lifted the hatch cover with his shoulders, climbing into the cabin. He stooped down quickly and secured the hatch again. Then he stood up and turned toward the acceleration couches.

Merola’s voice came to him first. “That you, Jack? What on earth kept you?”

“It’s me,” he said. “Ted Baker!”

“What?” Merola swung upright on the couch, turning his body to face the hatch. “What the deuce are you doing here?”

“Jack is hurt.” Ted said quickly. “You’ve got to stop blastoff.”

Merola leaped to the deck, drifting downward, and Dan Forbes dropped down beside him. Behind them, Ted could see the worried faces of the two doctors.

“What are you talking about?” Merola asked. “What do you mean Jack’s hurt?”

“I had to knock him unconscious.” Ted blurted. “That is, I didn’t want to, but he insisted on coming to the rocket. I had to stop him somehow, and the only way I could was...”

“Make sense!” Merola snapped. “Where’s Jack now?”

“Back in the air lock. At the Station.” Ted took a deep gulp and added, “You’ve got to stop blastoff, sir. Jack’s...”

“How the deuce do you propose we do that?” Merola stormed. “I thought you Academy guys...” He clamped his mouth shut in exasperation and then lowered his voice as he went on. “This ship is primed to go, Baker. We couldn’t stop blastoff if we wanted to. Suppose you start explaining this from the be...”

“I didn’t think you’d have the guts,” Forbes said suddenly. “I didn’t think you’d go through with it, Baker.”

For an instant, Ted didn’t realize Forbes was addressing him. He turned to face the lieutenant then and asked, “Sir?”

“Don’t give me the baby-blue-eyes treatment, Baker,” Forbes snapped. “Of all the filthy tricks, this takes the cake!”

“What are you talking about?” Merola asked.

“Our eager senior here,” Forbes said. His gray eyes flashed with unveiled anger. He gestured at Ted with his close-cropped blond head and said, “He’s sabotaged Jack and come aboard in his place!”

Ted’s mouth opened in surprise. “Why no, sir. That’s not it at all! Jack...”

“George,” Dr. Phelps called hurriedly. “The Station. They’re sending up a flare.”

Merola sidestepped Ted and shoved himself hastily to the viewport. A red flare arced high over the Station, like a spark leaping from the rim of a wheel. It burst in the sky like an opening red hand, its brilliance tinting the inside of the rocket.

“That’s a danger flare,” Merola said. He whirled from the viewport, facing Ted with a solemn look in his eyes.

“What does Dan mean, Baker?”

“I don’t know, sir. I didn’t come aboard in Jack’s place. I came here to tell you to stop blastoff. Sir, I...”

“Then what was all that talk this afternoon, Baker?” Forbes interrupted. “About wanting to do something you knew would hurt someone else? About it being as important as the Moon trip? I tried to tell myself I was wrong about you, Baker, but you proved I was right. The temptation proved to be too much, didn’t it?”

Panic rushed into Ted’s eyes. “Sir, I... I...” he stammered. “You... you’ve got to understand.”

“Attention, Moon rocket!” the bulkhead speaker blared. “Attention, Moon rocket!”

“Here it is now,” Merola said. “Maybe this’ll clear it up.”

“You have a stowaway,” the voice on the speaker said.

“No!” Ted shouted. “That’s not true. I didn’t...”

“You have a stowaway, Moon rocket. You have a stowaway.”

“All right, Baker,” Forbes said. “That confirms it.”

“Sir...”

Merola’s face was grim. “I’m a little disappointed in you, Baker. I thought... well, no matter.”

“What are we going to do, George?” Forbes asked.

“What can we do? He goes with us.”

“No,” Ted pleaded. “We can’t do that. I just wanted you to stop because Jack was hurt and...”

“You planned it this way, Baker,” Forbes said. “Why chicken out now?”

“I didn’t plan anything!” Ted shouted. He turned to the two doctors still lying on the couches. They stared at him incredulously. “Dr. Phelps, Dr. Gehardt,” he pleaded. “Won’t you listen to me?”

Dr. Phelps turned away, his silence more cutting than any words could have been.

Dr. Gehardt seemed to waver for a moment. He shook his head slowly then and said, “I remember on the trip to the Station, your talk about the Moon rocket.”

“But I didn’t mean...”

“Stand by for blastoff,” the bulkhead speaker warned.

“Captain Merola,” Ted said, “you’ve got to believe me. I didn’t want to come on the Moon trip. I was perfectly happy to stay at the Station.” He bit his lip, dangerously close to frustrated tears, holding them back before these older men.

“Then what are you doing here?” Merola asked.

“Jack was injured. I came to tell you.”

“Sure,” Forbes said. “You knocked him cold. You just admitted it a while ago.”

“No, not that,” Ted said. “He...”

“Zero minus two,” the speaker warned.

“Let’s get to the couches,” Merola said. “We can talk about this later.”

“But, Captain,” Ted started. “I...”

“Get to your couch, Baker,” Merola said, his voice stern.

“Zero minus one.”

“Wh-which couch, sir?”

“Above Dr. Gehardt. Snap to it!”

“Sir, I...”

“You’ve caused enough trouble already, Baker. If you foul up our blastoff, I’ll...”

“Fifty-five...”

“Let’s hop to it, George,” Forbes said.

“Fifty...”

Merola went quickly across the deck and piled into his couch. He swung the movable radar screen into place over his chest, began clicking toggles.

“I’m checked, Dan,” he said.

“Roger.”

“Thirty...”

“Are those the seconds the speaker is counting off?” Dr. Gehardt asked.

“Forward radar loud and clear,” Forbes called.

“Roger.”

“Twenty...”

Ted lay back on his couch, his fingers digging into the foam rubber. He didn’t want to be going to the Moon. He only wanted them to believe him. He wanted them to know he’d been telling the truth, that he’d only been thinking of...

“Port radar loud and clear.”

“Roger.”

“Starboard radar loud and clear.”

“Roger.”

“Ten...”

“Rear radar loud and clear.”

“Roger.”

“Stand by, Moon rocket. Nine, eight, seven, six, five...”

Ted felt his stomach curl around his spine. He listened to the speaker on the bulkhead, and his skin erupted into goose-pimples. His lip began to tremble, and he clamped his jaws shut against his rattling teeth. This was no hop to the Station. They were shooting for the Moon. The Moon...

“Four, three...”

“Get set,” Merola shouted.

“Two...”

“This is it,” Forbes said, and his voice was peculiarly tight.

“One!”