The enemy was friendly enough.
Trouble was--their friendship
was as dangerous as their hate!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1962.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
General Finogenov notified Major Winship that the underground blast was
scheduled for the following morning.
Major Winship, after receiving the message, discussed precautions with
the three other Americans.
Next morning, before the sunlight exploded, the four of them donned
their space suits and went and sat outside the dome, waiting. The sun
rose with its bright, silent clap of radiance. Black pools of shadows
lay in harsh contrast, their edges drawn with geometric precision.
Major Winship attempted unsuccessfully to communicate with Base
Gagarin. "Will you please request the general to keep us informed on
the progress of the countdown?"
"Is Pinov," came the reply. "Help?"
"_Nyet_," said Major Winship, exhausting his Russian. "Count down.
Progress. When--boom?"
"Is Pinov," came the reply.
"Boom! Boom!" said Major Winship in exasperation.
"Boom!" said Pinov happily.
"When?"
"Boom--boom!" said Pinov.
"Oh, nuts." Major Winship cut out the circuit. "They've got Pinov on
emergency watch this morning," he explained to the other Americans.
"The one that doesn't speak English."
"He's done it deliberately," said Capt. Wilkins, the eldest of the four
Americans. "How are we going to know when it's over?"
No one bothered to respond. They sat for a while in silence while the
shadows evaporated. One by one they clicked on their cooling systems.
Ultimately, Lt. Chandler said, "This is a little ridiculous. I'm going
to switch over to their channel. Rap if you want me." He sat transfixed
for several minutes. "Ah, it's all Russian. Jabbering away. I can't
tell a thing that's going on."
In the airless void of the moon, the blast itself would be silent. A
moth's wing of dust would, perhaps, rise and settle beyond the horizon:
no more.
"Static?"
"Nope."
"We'll get static on these things."
A small infinity seemed to pass very slowly.
Major Winship shifted restlessly. "My reefer's gone on the fritz."
Perspiration was trickling down his face.
"Let's all go in," said the fourth American, Capt. Lawler. "It's
probably over by now."
"I'll try again," Major Winship said and switched to the emergency
channel. "Base Gagarin? Base Gagarin?"
"Is Pinov. Help?"
"_Nyet._"
"Pinov's still there," Major Winship said.
"Tell him, 'Help'," said Capt. Wilkins, "so he'll get somebody we can
talk to."
"I'll see them all in hell, first," Major Winship said.
Five minutes later, the perspiration was rivers across his face. "This
is it," he said. "I'm going in."
"Let's all--"
"No. I've got to cool off."
"Hell, Charlie, I feel stupid sitting out here," Capt. Lawler said.
"The shot probably went off an hour ago."
"The static level hasn't gone up much, if at all."
"Maybe," Lt. Chandler said, "it's buried too deep."
"Maybe so," Major Winship said. "But we can't have the dome fall down
around all our ears." He stood. "Whew! You guys stay put."
* * * * *
He crossed with the floating moon-motion to the airlock and entered,
closing the door behind him. The darkness slowly filled with air, and
the temperature inside the suit declined steadily. At the proper moment
of pressure, the inner lock slid open and Major Winship stepped into
the illuminated central area. His foot was lifted for the second step
when the floor beneath him rose and fell gently, pitching him forward,
off balance. He stumbled against the table and ended up seated beside
the radio equipment. The ground moved again.
"Charlie! Charlie!"
"I'm okay," Major Winship answered. "Okay! Okay!"
"It's--"
There was additional surface movement. The movement ceased.
"Hey, Les, how's it look?" Capt. Wilkins asked.
"Okay from this side. Charlie, you still okay?"
"Okay," Major Winship said. "We told them this might happen," he added
bitterly.
There was a wait during which everyone seemed to be holding their
breath.
"I guess it's over," said Major Winship, getting to his feet. "Wait a
bit more, there may be an after-shock." He switched once again to the
emergency channel.
"Is Pinov," came the supremely relaxed voice. "Help?"
Major Winship whinnied in disgust. "_Nyet!_" he snarled. To the other
Americans: "Our comrades seem unconcerned."
"Tough."
They began to get the static for the first time. It crackled and
snapped in their speakers. They made sounds of disapproval at each
other. For a minute or two, static blanked out the communications
completely. It then abated to something in excess of normal.
"Well," Lt. Chandler commented, "even though we didn't build this thing
to withstand a moonquake, it seems to have stood up all right."
"I guess I was just--" Major Winship began. "Oh, hell! We're losing
pressure. Where's the markers?"
"By the lug cabinet."
"Got 'em," Major Winship said a moment later.
He peeled back a marker and let it fall. Air currents whisked it away
and plastered it against a riveted seam of the dome. It pulsed as
though it were breathing and then it ruptured.
Major Winship moved quickly to cut out the emergency air supply which
had cut in automatically with the pressure drop. "You guys wait. It's
on your right side, midway up. I'll try to sheet it."
He moved for the plastic sheeting.
"We've lost about three feet of calk out here," Capt. Lawler said. "I
can see more ripping loose. You're losing pressure fast at this rate."