"I understand, Wade. My insides feel it too. But let him be the hero."
"He will be," Wade said, reaching for the bottle again. "He will be."
"Then let him. We have more important things to think about now." The
Secretary got up. Wade grasped the empty tumbler in the palm of his
hand, squeezing tightly.
"Ackerson said red."
"I know," replied the Secretary.
"Red means danger. The crater should have been stained yellow."
"Perhaps there was a mix-up in containers."
"You don't believe that, Frank."
"But the radio is still operating! A steady C.W. beam is coming in. If
there was any danger we would be getting code."
Wade forced a smile. "You should have been a minister. There is always
hope ... is that it?"
The Secretary placed his hat carefully on his head. "I'd better get
over to the lab and take a look at those movies he took."
"It must be so lonely ..." Boeman said loosely.
"Perhaps not. Tomer was a quiet man. Those kind don't seem to mind."
A sudden, loud cheer broke the near silence in the room. Wade glanced
toward the window. Then he got up slowly with the action of an old man.
He went to the window and looked out.
Ackerson was being carried through a path of humanity aloft on dozens
of shoulders. He was waving to the hundreds of well-wishers as he
was carried toward the battery of microphones waiting on the wooden
platform erected for the occasion. Wade couldn't help but think of a
hero of another age. Lindbergh. It must have been the same then. And
who remembered those that followed him? Or those that paved the way so
he could make it? Wade shook his head.
He turned away from the window quickly, heading for the desk and the
bottle. The Secretary followed him with his eyes, undecided.
Boeman lifted the bottle high above his head in a toasting gesture. "To
the hero."
"Don't, Wade."
The bottle paused there while the eyes of the two men met. Finally the
bottle returned to the desk as Wade surrendered. Then he slumped down
in the chair.
The Secretary placed his hand on Wade's shoulder. Boeman shook it off,
and he was sorry instantly. "O.K. Frank. You win. Ackerson wins."
"Good," the Secretary said softly. "That's the way we want it. We have
to prevent everyone from feeling the way you do now. It isn't that
you're jealous of Ackerson getting the glory. And you know that Tomer
doesn't mind. It's your worrying about him that's clouding your mind.
Everyone would be feeling the same way."
The Secretary looked out the window. "We couldn't have that. It would
have set space travel back years. Ackerson is powerful evidence that
space flight is safe. Tomer is our insurance. We need that just as
badly. We had no choice. We had to stake a claim on the Moon."
Wade poured another drink. "And that conceited ass is getting all the
credit while Tomer is sweating it out up there on that cold chunk of
rock--while everyone thinks he quit the project because he got cold
feet."
"True." The Secretary shook his head. "But Tomer is our ace-in-the-hole
if the iron curtain announces their intentions to land up there.
"Tomer can be contacted. He can set off the signal for the world to
see. In the meantime we will be working to make the next flight a
complete one. It won't take long. Tomer will manage."
"But Ackerson said the crater was red!"
"I know. And I'm wasting time talking with you. I should be looking at
those movies he took."
Wade didn't watch the Secretary leave. He picked up the bottle and
glass and went to the window.
Down on the ramp the P.A. began to crackle. Ackerson was beginning his
speech.
Wade took out the letter that Ackerson had sent to him. He took out
a match and touched the flame to it. It was better that way. He was
finished with Ackerson. He had a job to do now, one that would consume
him. He had to get the _Starfrost II_ underway. He had to get there to
get Tomer.
Suddenly he understood. There were all kinds of heroes. Men like
Ackerson were driven by the lure of fame and money. Tomer became one
because the job had to be done and there was no one else to do it.
Lowe was one, in a way, fighting for peace against a world that was
always in unrest. In a way Wade himself might fall in one category. The
thought made him smile.
The Secretary was right, of course. The public would crucify them if
they knew Tomer had been in the supposedly unmanned test rocket fired
at the Moon with no way home.
Wade lifted his drink high in the air as Ackerson's deep voice carried
into the room from the ramp below. "To a hero," he said. "A lonely
hero." Wade's eyes were on the sky when he said it, on a spot where the
Moon would be some hours later.