“Hey,” said Ross, “these senior prizes — they aren’t big enough. That’s why nobody has made a real bid for the top ones. The prize wouldn’t pay the expenses, not for the kind of budget you mentioned. It’s a sort of a swindle, isn’t it?”
“Not a swindle, but that’s about the size of it,” Cargraves conceded. “With the top prize only $250,000 it won’t tempt General Electric, or Dupont, or North American Atomic, or any other big research corporation. They can’t afford it, unless some other profit can be seen. As a matter of fact, a lot of the prize money comes from those corporations.” He sat up again. “But we can compete for it!”
“How?”
“I don’t give a darn about the prize money. I just want to go!” “Me too!” Ross made the statement; Art chimed in.
“My sentiments exactly. As to how, that’s where you come in. I can’t spend a million dollars, but I think there is a way to tackle this on a shoestring. We need a ship. We need the fuel. We need a lot of engineering and mechanical work. We need overhead expenses and supplies for the trip. I’ve got a ship.”
“You have? Now? A space ship?” Art was wide-eyed.
“I’ve got an option to buy an Atlantic freighter-rocket at scrap prices. I can swing that. It’s a good rocket, but they are replacing the manned freighters with the more economical robot-controlled jobs. It’s a V-17 and it isn’t fit to convert to passenger service, so we get it as scrap. But if I buy it, it leaves me almost broke. Under the UN trusteeship for atomics, a senior member of the Global Association of Atomic Scientists — that’s me!” he stuck in, grinning, “can get fissionable material for experimental purposes, if the directors of the Association approve. I can swing that. I’ve picked thorium, rather than uranium-235, or plutonium-never mind why. But the project itself had me stumped, just too expensive. I was about ready to try to promote it by endorsements and lecture contracts and all the other clap- trap it sometimes takes to put over scientific work -when I met you fellows.”
He got up and faced them. “I don’t need much to convert that old V-17 into a space ship. But I do need skilled hands and brains and the imagination to know what is needed and why. You’d be my mechanics and junior engineers and machine-shop workers and instrument men and presently my crew. You’ll do hard, dirty work for long hours and cook your own meals in the bargain. You’ll get nothing but coffee-and-cakes and a chance to break your necks. The ship may never leave the ground. If it does, chances are you’ll never live to tell about it. It won’t be one big adventure. I’ll work you till you’re sick of me and probably nothing will come of it. But that’s the proposition. Think it over and let me know.”
There was the nerve-tingling pause which precedes an earthquake. Then the boys were on their feet, shouting all at once. It was difficult to make out words, but the motion had been passed by acclamation; the Galileo Club intended to go to the moon.
When the buzzing had died down, Cargraves noticed that Ross’s face was suddenly grave. “What’s the matter, Ross? Cold feet already ?”
“No,” Ross shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s too good to be true.”
“Could be, could be. I think I know what’s worrying you. Your parents?”
“Uh, huh. I doubt if our folks will ever let us do it.”
Chapter 4: THE BLOOD OF PIONEERS
CARGRAVES LOOKED AT THEIR woebegone faces. He knew what they were faced with; a boy can’t just step up to his father and say, “By the way, old man, count me out on those plans we made for me to go to college. I’ve got a date to meet Santa Claus at the North Pole.” It was the real reason he had hesitated before speaking of his plans. Finally he said, “I’m afraid it’s up to each of you. Your promise to me does not apply to your parents, but ask them to respect your confidence. I don’t want our plans to get into the news.”