* * * * *
The second Special Message was from the PCC and asked with crisp and
blunt formality why two Acme ships, which had been officially grounded
by the Commission, had blasted off the Moon.
In answer, Swenson was mild and apologetic. What else could he have
done? Surely the Commission must understand that his first duty was to
save his ships from damage. He had been informed by his captains that
the shadow knife-edge was almost due, and there was no possibility
of the control crews servicing the temperature-change compensators in
time. It was an emergency. The matter of the grounding could be settled
later.
When his answer was finished, he coded it, along with the Special
Message from Moulton Trust, the astrogram from Senator Higby, and his
replies. Finally, he coded the Special Message from PCC.
Then he called Number 5.
"Number 5 to dispatcher. This is Verbold. What goes on now?"
"You tell me. Dwelleth thy household in peace?"
"For the moment."
"Have you followed my instructions?"
"In general, yes."
"Did your crew hear Senator Higby's speech?"
"Most of them. What else is there to do in this rat-trap?"
"I could think of a lot of things. But as long as the crew heard the
Honorable's spiel, that's all that matters. Do you know about the
little affair half an hour ago at Luna City?"
"No."
"Check your news recorder. Have the item broadcast to the crew. Then
decode the sequence of messages I'm about to send and read them--at
your discretion--to the men. Stand by to record code."
When he had finished, Swenson leaned back and opened a beer. "All we
can do now is wait. But I'd give my grandmother's immortal soul, if the
old shrew had one, to be in the sacred sanctum of Moulton Trust."
* * * * *
Lesquallan sat on the edge of the long table in Moulton's Board Room.
He spoke slowly and for once his voice was low:
"Esrov, did you or did you not suggest to our Senator Higby that he
lengthen his speech on the Moon to include certain new information? And
did that information involve my company along with yours?"
"Mr. Lesquallan, the matter concerns only a minor aspect of policy,"
said Esrov placatingly.
"Minor aspect of policy, hell! It concerns business. Look what happened
at Luna. And you let us get publicly involved in it. Such matters must
never be handled openly."
Esrov did not answer.
"Did you send such a message, Rovance?" Rovance shook his head.
Lesquallan turned to Neinfort-Whritings. "Did you?"
"No, Lesquallan." Neinfort-Whritings gently pulled a Special Message
form from beneath Esrov's folded hands as they lay on the gleaming
conference table.