Chapter II

Capt. Lawler and Lt. Chandler took the land car to Base Gagarin. The Soviet base was situated some ten miles toward sunset at the bottom of a natural fold in the surface. The route was moderately direct to the tip of the gently rolling ridge. At that point, the best pathway angled left and made an S-shaped descent to the basin. It was a one-way trip of approximately thirty exhausting minutes.

Major Winship, with his deficient reefer, remained behind. Capt. Wilkins stayed for company.

"I want a cigarette in the worst way," Capt. Wilkins said.

"So do I, Larry. Shouldn't be more than a couple of hours. Unless something else goes wrong."

"As long as they'll loan us the calking compound," Capt. Wilkins said.

"Yeah, yeah," Major Winship said.

"Let's eat."

"You got any concentrate? I'm empty."

"I'll load you," Capt. Wilkins volunteered wearily.

It was an awkward operation that took several minutes. Capt. Wilkins cursed twice during the operation. "I'd hate to live in this thing for any period."

"I think these suits are one thing we've got over the Russians," Major Winship said. "I don't see how they can manipulate those bulky pieces of junk around."

They ate.

"Really horrible stuff."

"Nutritious."

After the meal, Major Winship said reflectively, "Now I'd like a cup of hot tea. I'm cooled off."

Capt. Wilkins raised eyebrows. "What brought this on?"

"I was just thinking.... They really got it made, Larry. They've got better than three thousand square feet in the main dome and better than twelve hundred square feet in each of the two little ones. And there's only seven of them right now. That's living."

"They've been here six years longer, after all."

"Finogenov had a _clay_ samovar sent up. Lemon and nutmeg, too. Real, by God, fresh lemons for the tea, the last time I was there. His own office is about ten by ten. Think of that. One hundred square feet. And a wooden desk. A _wooden_ desk. And a chair. A wooden chair. Everything big and heavy. Everything. Weight, hell. Fifty pounds more or less--"

"They've got the power-plants for it."

"Do you think he did that deliberately?" Major Winship asked. "I think he's trying to force us off. I think he hoped for the quake. Gagarin's built to take it, I'll say that. Looks like it, anyhow. You don't suppose they planned this all along? Even if they didn't, they sure got the jump on us again, didn't they? I told you what he told me?"

"You told me," Capt. Wilkins said.

* * * * *

After a moment, Major Winship said bitterly, "To hell with the Russian engineer."

"If you've got all that power...."

"That's the thing. That's the thing that gripes me, know what I mean? It's just insane to send up a heavy wooden desk. That's showing off. Like a little kid."

"Maybe they don't make aluminum desks."

"They've--got--aluminum. Half of everything on the whole planet is aluminum. You know they're just showing off."

"Let me wire you up," Capt. Wilkins said. "We ought to report."

"That's going to take awhile."

"It's something to do while we wait."

"I guess we ought to." Major Winship came down from the bunk and sat with his back toward the transmitter. Capt. Wilkins slewed the equipment around until the emergency jacks were accessible. He unearthed the appropriate cable and began unscrewing the exterior plate to the small transmitter-receiver set on Major Winship's back. Eventually, trailing wires, Major Winship was coupled into the network. "Okay?"

"Okay," Major Winship gestured.

They roused Earth.

"This is Major Charles Winship, Commanding Officer, Freedom 19, the American moonbase."

At this point, Major Winship observed for the first time that he was now on emergency air. He started to ask Capt. Wilkins to change his air bottle, but then he realized his communications were cut off. He reached over and rapped Capt. Wilkins' helmet.

"This is the Cape. Come in, Major Winship."

"Just a moment."

"Is everything all right?"

Major Winship was squirming nervously, obviously perturbed.

"A-Okay," he said. "Just a moment."

"What's wrong?" came the worried question. In the background, he heard someone say, "I think there's something wrong."

Capt. Wilkins peered intently. Major Winship contorted his face in a savage grimace.

Capt. Wilkins raised his eyebrows in alarm. They were face to face through their helmets, close together. Each face appeared monstrously large to the other.

Major Winship made a strangling motion and reached for his throat. One arm tangled a cable and jerked the speaker jack loose. Major Winship could no longer hear the alarmed expressions from the Cape. The effort was not entirely subvocal, since he emitted a little gasping cry in involuntary realism.

This, in the course of some 90 seconds, was transmitted to Earth.

Capt. Wilkins's lips were desperately forming the word "Leak?"

Air, Major Winship said silently.

Leak?

Bottle! Bottle! Bottle! It was a frog-like, unvocal expletive.

* * * * *

Comprehension dawned. Capt. Wilkins nodded and started to turn away. Major Winship caught his arm and nodded his head toward the loose jack.

Oh.

Capt. Wilkins nodded and smiled. He reached across and plugged the speaker in again.

"... Freedom 19! Hello, Freedom 19! Come in!"

"We're here," Major Winship said.

"All right? Are you all right?"

"We're all right. A-Okay." Major Winship, mindful of the extent of his potential audience, took a deep breath. "Earlier this morning, the Soviet Union fired an underground atomic device for the _ostensible_ purpose of investigating the composition of the lunar mass by means of seismic analysis of the resultant shock waves. This was done in spite of American warnings that such a disturbance might release accumulated stresses in the long undisturbed satellite, and was done in the face of vigorous American protests."

Capt. Wilkins tapped his helmet and gestured for him to swivel around. The turn was uncomfortably tight and complicated by the restraining cables. Capt. Wilkins began replacement of the air bottle.

"These protests have proved well founded," Major Winship continued. "Immediately following the detonation, Freedom 19 was called on to withstand a moderately severe shifting of the Lunar surface. No personnel were injured and there was no equipment damage."

Capt. Wilkins tapped his shoulder to indicate the new air bottle was being inserted. Another tap indicated it was seated. Major Winship flicked the appropriate chest button and nodded in appreciation.

"However," he continued, "we did experience a minor leak in the dome, which is presently being repaired."

"The Soviet Union," came the reply, "has reported the disturbance and has tendered their official apology. You want it?"

"It can wait until later. Send it by mail for all I care. Vacuum has destroyed our organic air reconditioner. We have approximately three weeks of emergency air. However, Base Gagarin reports no damage, so that, in the event we exhaust our air, we will be able to obtain the necessary replacement."

The wait of a little better than three seconds for the response gave the conversation a tone of deliberation.

A new voice came on. "We tried to contact you earlier, Major. We will be able to deliver replacements in about ten days."

"I will forward a coded report on the occurrence," Major Winship said.

"Let us hear from you again in ... about three hours. Is the leak repaired?"

"The leak has not yet been repaired. Over and out."

He nodded to Capt. Wilkins and leaned back.

Methodically, Capt. Wilkins set about disconnecting the major from the transmitter.

"Wow!" said Major Winship when he was once more in communication. "For a moment there, I thought...."

"What?" Capt. Wilkins asked with interest.

"I could see myself asking them to ask the Russians to ask Finogenov to get on the emergency channel to ask you to charge the air bottle. I never felt so ... idiotic is not quite strong enough ... there for a minute in my whole life. I didn't know how much emergency air was left, and I thought, my God, I'll never live this down. All the hams in the world listening, while I try to explain the situation. I could see the nickname being entered in my files: aka. The Airless Idiot. I tell you, that was rough."