Bowles started to retort, stopped-then went on again’ with dignity. “Jim, I didn’t mean to annoy you. But I meant what I said. It’s not important to get back, as long as our message gets through. Our mistakes will make it easier for the next expedition. — In a year the United States can have a dozen ships, better ships, on the Moon. Then no country would be-so foolhardy as to attack us. That is important; we aren’t.”
He went on, “Every man dies; the group goes on. You spoke of Mannie’s kids. You have no children, nor has —
Corley. Mannie has-so I know he understands what I mean better than you do.”– He turned to Traub. “Well, —
Mannie?”
Traub looked up, then dropped his eyes. “Red is right, Mr. Barnes,” he answered in a low voice, “but I’d like to — get home.”
Barnes bit his lip. “Let’s drop it,” he said irritably. “Red, you might rustle up some supper.”
For three days, Earth time, they labored. Bowles and Barnes stripped the ship-cameras, empty oxygen bottles, their extra clothing, the many scientific instruments Corley had hoped to use-Wilson cloud chamber, Geiger counter, a 12″ Schmidt camera and clock, still cameras, ‘the autocamera, ultra — and infra-spectrographs, other instruments. Corley stayed at his desk, computing, checking, computing again-getting the problem in the best possible shape to turn — over ‘to Hastings. Traub overhauled his radio and lined up his directional antenna to the exact orientation at which Earth would appear.
The hour finally crept up to them. Traub, was in his couch at the radio controls while the rest crowded at the eastern port. What they needed to say had been made one message:
A formal claim to the Moon, setting forth time and • place of landing, a long and technical message to Hastings, and finally code groups supplied by Bowles. Traub would send it all out as one, many times if necessary.
“I see it!” It was Corley who claimed the distinction. Barnes stared at the spot. “Your imagination, Doe; a highlight on the peaks.” The sun was behind them,
“afternoon” by local time; the mountains were bright in
the east. —
Bowles put in, “No, Jim. There’s something there.” Barnes turned. “Start sending!”
Traub closed his key.
The message was repeated, with listening in between, time after time. An arc of Earth slowly, terribly slowly, crept above the horizon. No answer came back, but they did not despair, so little of Earth was as yet in sight. Finally Barnes turned to Corley. “What does that look like, Doe? The part we can see, I mean.”
Corley peered at it. “Can’t say. Too much cloud.”
“It looks like ocean. If so, we won’t get a jingle until it’s higher.”
Corley’s face slowly became horror struck. “What’s the matter?” demanded-Barnes.
“Good griefi I forgot to figure the attitude.”
“Huh?”
Corley did not answer. He jumped to the desk, grabbed the Nautical Almanac, started scribbling, stopped, and drew a diagram of the positions of Earth, Sun, and Moon. On the circle representing the Earth he drew a line for the Greenwich meridian.
Barnes leaned over him. “Why the panic?”
“That is ocean, the Pacific Ocean.” Bowles joined’ them. “What about it?”
“Don’t you see? Earth turns to the east; America is • — moving away-already out of sight.” Corley hurriedly consulted his earlier calculations. “Earth reaches maximum elevation in about, uh, four hours and eight minutes. Then it drops back.”
Traub pushed up an earphone. “Can’t you guys shut up?” he protested. “I’m trying to listen.”
Corley threw down his pencil. “It doesn’t matter, Mannie. You aren’t ever going to be in line-of-sight with NAA.”
“Huh? What did you say?”
“The Earth is faced wrong. We’re seeing the Pacific Ocean now, then we’ll see Asia, Europe, and finally the Atlantic. By the time we should see the United States it will have dropped back of the mountains.”
“You mean I’m just wasting time?”
“Keep sending, Mannie,” Barnes said quietly, “and keep listening. You may pick up — another station.”
Bowles shook his head. “Not likely.”
“Why not? Hawaii may still be in sight. The Pearl Harbor station is powerfuL”