* * * * *
Jim took his seat at the console and watched the slow progress of the
Prospector across the moon's surface. It was winding its way through
an area of small, low crags. Ahead was a smooth, level plain. Jim
determined to halt there and make the next probe.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hennesey moving toward them. He
could think of nothing that would make the day more unpleasant than
Hennesey's presence.
The Project Director scanned the panels and the meters that showed the
distance traveled by the Prospector.
"Why have you moved the machine so far?" Hennesey demanded. "You've
used up valuable machine time that could have been used in additional
probes. We may be approaching the end of the useful life of the
Prospector very rapidly."
"I am aware of that," said Jim icily. "The stock of reagents aboard is
nearly exhausted. I wanted to make at least one comparison probe at a
considerable distance from our original site."
Hennesey grunted and remained silent, watching. Then, suddenly he cried
out, "Look out! You fool--!"
Jim had seen it, too. At the edge of the crags was a ten-foot wide
fissure spreading darkly on either side of the Prospector. The drives
of the machine were upon it before he realized it was there. In fact,
the crazy thought echoed in the back of his mind that it _wasn't_ there
an instant before.
He slammed his hand against the switches that sent out a reversing
signal to the drives of the Prospector. But it was too late. The worm
drives bit into nothingness as the machine toppled slowly at the edge
of the crevasse. And in that moment, as the image on the television
screen teetered crazily, Jim had the impression that he was looking
into the black depths of utter horror. There was a blackness oozing
and writhing faintly in the depths--that could have been thirty or
a hundred feet deep. But he had seen just such a black horror once
before.
When the EEG signals from the moon first smashed into his brain!
He glanced at Sam. Sam was staring in a kind of intense horror that
told Jim he recognized it, too.
The image tilted abruptly against the black moon sky. Then the screen
went dark. And Jim had the feeling that the blackness had closed over
him.
But Hennesey had sensed nothing of this. He was cursing and raging
beside Jim. "You blind, brainless fool! You wiped out a billion-dollar
experiment because you weren't looking! You're through, Cochran! Get
everything that's yours and be out of here in ten minutes!"
Hennesey whirled and strode away, his rage reeking through the
atmosphere of the room.
Jim stood up and moved to the back of the panel. He opened the plastic
doors and clipped the last ten feet from the spool of TV recording tape
and slipped it in his pocket. When he returned to the other side of the
console, Sam was waiting for him.
"Where are you going?" said Jim.
"With you."
"Where's that?"
"I don't think you know, but I do. I'll tag along and see if I'm right."
"You're crazy. Didn't you just hear Hennesey fire me?"
"Yeah. I quit at the same time."
"You're really crazy."
Jim had a few textbooks and scientific papers in his desk. He arranged
for one of his men to clean them out. He didn't feel that he could
endure remaining in the station any longer.
Tom Banning followed them out into the sunshine of the parking lot.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but it looked as if what happened back there was
rather inevitable."
"It was," said Jim. "I'd have kicked his teeth in sooner or later. It's
better this way."
"What will you do now?"
"Ask Sam. He seems to think he has some crazy idea of what I'm going to
do next. I sure don't."
"The news conference," said Sam. "You'd better call it right away
before news of your dismissal gets out. They may think you just want to
unload some sour grapes if they hear of that first."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Will you back me up in the conference,
Tom?"
The doctor nodded. "Gladly. It's pretty hard to believe, but you've got
me believing."
* * * * *
Jim was personally acquainted with most of the newsmen who showed up
for his conference. He had met them and helped them get stories on the
Prospector during the past two years. They were sympathetic toward him.
He began his story by reviewing his initial discovery of the difference
in moon elements. He explained the analysis and showed them samples of
the telemetry record. Then he eased slowly into his discovery of fossil
hydrocarbons and finally the living hydrocarbons. He watched carefully
as he moved deeper into the story. He didn't want to lose them here.
They stayed with him, incredulous but confident that he knew what he
was talking about. It was when he spoke of the fluctuating potential
measurements, that proved to be interpretable as EEG recordings that
he almost lost them. But he introduced Tom Banning quickly to verify
his statements. And Tom introduced the EEG machine itself. He offered
to demonstrate. A half dozen of the reporters tried it. _They_ had no
doubts, afterward.
"You can almost draw your own conclusions," said Jim in winding up the
conference. "That thing is out there in our sky. There's no doubt about
it. I've shown you what we know. Now let me tell you what I believe:
"There is some form of life in the moon. It is not merely _in_ the
moon. It _is_ the moon. I believe its bulk occupies almost the entire
volume of the moon. I believe this nemesis was spawned incalculable
eons ago in a time and a space that is literally outside our own. It
was driven out of that time and space by intelligent beings who could
not destroy it, but who could at least exile it in a state of dormancy.
Or perhaps they thought they had destroyed it and wanted not even the
remains in their own domain. Perhaps the craters of the moon were
caused by bombardment intended to destroy the thing.
"But it is not dead. It _was_ dormant. Now, our laser probings have
stirred it to feeble life. It made a deliberate effort to capture or
destroy the Prospector by opening a fissure beneath it. My TV film
recording proves that the fissure was not there previously.
"What are we to do about it? That is why I have called you here.
Consider that the science of the intelligences in the domain that
spawned this thing could not destroy it. What chance has our feeble
science and powers against such a force? Hydrogen bombs would probably
serve only to feed it the energy for which it is starved.
"We must cease our lunar exploration program at once. We can hope that
it is not too late. If it is not, this thing may relapse into the
dormancy from which it has been shaken. We can only hope.
"But if we persist in our explorations and our probings of the moon
we are certain to loose upon ourselves a living force that our entire
world of science will be helpless to overcome.
"We must stop the moon program now!"
* * * * *
They kept him for another two hours with questions and demands for
further information. He gave them everything he knew, and when they
finally left, he felt that a sane and correct story of his findings
would be published. He waited for whatever results would be published
by the news services the following morning.
He waited.
There was nothing.
Eddie Fry called him two days later. Eddie was the reporter who knew
him best. "They killed the story," said Eddie. "We had to clear it with
government sources, and they persuaded every press association and
newspaper that knew about it to kill it. They said it would destroy the
national economy that was being built up on the space program. We tried
to make them believe it, Jim, but we couldn't do it. It was hard enough
to be convinced when we were listening to you. Second hand, it just
wouldn't go over. You really can't blame them.
"They're doing something else, too. They're really going to nail you
for this thing. A story is being released about your dismissal. It is
said that you were released for fantastic and unreliable theories and
for incompetence that resulted in the loss of the Prospector. I'm sorry
as hell, Jim. I wish we could kill that one, but there's not a thing we
can do for you."
"It's o.k., Eddie," said Jim. "I know how it is."
Crackpot. He was finished.
He called Allan at his base that night. His brother-in-law's voice was
icy as he answered. "What do you want, Jim?"
"Come down over the weekend, can you, Allan? I've got something
important I want to talk to you about."
"Listen, Jim. Stay away from me! Don't call; don't try to see me. Don't
send me letters or telegrams. Nothing! Do you understand that?"
"What the devil--?"
"They're investigating me. Because of you. They want to know how much
I've been listening to your crackpot notions. They're afraid maybe it
will produce an instability that will make me unfit for the moon trip.
If I lose out, it will be because of you!"
"That's what I want to talk to you about. Allan, you've got to listen
to me! You won't get off the moon alive--"
The phone went dead. Jim hung up slowly and went back to the living
room where Mary sat in tense, white fear. She had heard Jim's side of
the conversation. She guessed what Allan had said.
"It's no use," said Jim. "Don't try to reach him. He'll hate you
forever."
* * * * *
It was no use to run, but they ran anyway. This was what Sam meant when
he said he knew what Jim was going to do. Jim Cochran was completely
blackballed in his own profession. As he said, he couldn't have gotten
a job stirring with a wooden paddle in a soap factory.
Tom Banning and his family went with them. They went as far north as
they could and finally stopped running on the edge of the Canadian
wilderness. They pooled their funds and bought some wheat land and some
cattle stock and tried to stop thinking beyond the end of each day.
They were grateful for the absence of television, but they kept a
radio. Through it, they learned when the Apollo finally took off with
its three-man crew. They followed its two and a half day journey
through space and heard the voice of Captain Allan Wright announce they
were in lunar orbit.
A few hours later the landing capsule was disengaged from the
spaceship and Captain Wright and William Chambers rode it down. Their
voices were heard in exultation as they announced their first steps on
the surface of the moon.
It was night in northern Canada when the landing was made. Jim and Sam
and Tom and their families were outside watching the full moon, trying
to imagine how it was up there. From the house they heard the radio
relaying the voices of the astronauts. The voices were relayed to earth
through the more powerful transmitter of the orbiting Apollo, but as
the spaceship circled the moon the voices of the men on the surface
were lost. Then they returned once more as the ship came over their
horizon.
For five orbits their voices came and went as they described their
sensations and exulted in the first minutes of their achievement. Then,
on the sixth orbit, there were no voices. There was only the sudden,
shrill cry of the third crewman, Don Anderson, who manned the orbiting
ship.
"Allan! Bill! Apollo to capsule: Come in, please. Bill--where are
you--I can't even see your capsule. I'm passing right over the spot.
Apollo to Base: I can't locate the capsule through the telescope. It
looks like a big crevasse right where the capsule was, but it wasn't
there before. Allan--Bill--Come in! Come in!"
Jim heard the sudden sob that shook Mary. He put his arm about her
shoulders and led her into the house.
Don Anderson remained in lunar orbit for two more days. Then he was
ordered home. He landed safely.
There were expressions of national sorrow over the unexplained loss of
the two astronauts, but plans were renewed for the next voyage. The
President said that sacrifices must be expected if this great goal
were to be achieved, and that it would be a betrayal of those who had
already given their lives if the work were to stop now.
In Canada that winter, Jim was sure the wolves howled on cold, moonlit
nights more than ever before. And something new was happening to the
moon. The silver light was taking on a faint tint of orange. The radio
told of a very learned report by some astronomer who spoke obscurely of
changes in albedo and percentages of atmospheric dust and angstroms of
sunlight. Any fool could see the moon was changing color.
Jim listened to the wolves howling in the forest, and he thought of
Cramer's Pond when he was a boy, and of a machine tumbling into a
crevasse where a terrible darkness lay, and he wondered how long it
would be.