“You mean if we had been able to afford it,” put in Ross. “Well . . . anyhow, I’ve got another idea. This place is an electronics man’s dream — all that vacuum! I’m going to try to gimmick up some really big power tubes — only they won’t be tubes. I can just mount the elements out in the open without having to bother with glass. It’s the easiest way to do experimental tube design anybody ever heard of.”
“But even so,” Morrie pointed out, “that could go on indefinitely. Doc, you’ve got us scheduled to leave in less than ten earth-days. Feel like stretching the stay?” he added hopefully.
“No, I don’t,” Cargraves stated. “Hmmm . . . Art, let’s skip the transmitter problem for a moment. After all, there isn’t any law that says we’ve got to establish radio contact with the earth. But how long would it take to get ready to receive from the earth?”
“Oh, that!” said Art. “They have to do all the hard work for that. Now that I’ve got everything up here I can finish that hook-up in a couple of hours.”
“Fine! We’ll whip up some lunch.”
It was nearer three hours when Art announced he was ready to try. “Here goes,” he said. “Stand by.”
They crowded around. “What do you expect to get?” Ross asked eagerly.
Art shrugged. “Maybe nothing. NAA, or Berlin Sender, if they are beamed on us. I guess Radio Paris is the best bet, if they are still trying for us.” He adjusted his controls with the vacant stare that always came over him.
They all kept very quiet. If it worked, it would be a big moment in history, and they all knew it.
He looked suddenly startled.
“Got something?”
He did not answer for a moment. Then he pushed a phone off one ear and said bitterly, “One of you guys left the power on your walky-talky.”
Cargraves checked the suits himself. “No, Art, they are all dead.”
Art looked around the little room. “But . . . but . . there’s nothing else it could be. Somebody is nuts!”
“What’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter? I’m getting a power hum from somewhere and it’s from somewhere around here . . . close!”
Chapter 14: NO CHANCE AT ALL!
“Are you sure?,” CARGRAVES demanded.
“Of course I’m sure!”
“It’s probably Radio Paris,” Ross suggested. “You don’t know how far away it is.”
Art looked indignant. “Suppose you sit down here and try your luck, Mr. de Forrest. It was close. It couldn’t have been an earth station.”
“Feed back?”
“Don’t be silly!” He tried fiddling with his dials a bit more. “It’s gone now.”
“Just a minute,” said Cargraves. “We’ve got to be sure about this. Art, can you get any sort of a transmitter rigged?”
“Not very easy, but yes, I can, too. The homing set is all set to go.” The homing set was a low-power transmitter intended simply for communication between the Dog House and any member of the party outside in a suit.
“Gimme half a second to hook it up.” It took more than half a second but shortly he was leaning toward the microphone, shouting, “Hello! Hello! Is there anybody there! Hello!”
“He must have been dreaming,” Morrie said quietly to Cargraves. “There couldn’t be anybody out there.”
“Shut up,” Art said over his shoulder and went back to calling, “Hello! Hello, hello.”
His expression suddenly went blank, then he said sharply, “Speak English! Repeat!”
“What was it?” demanded Cargraves, Ross, and Art.
“Quiet . . . please!” Then, to the mike, “Yes, I hear you.
“Who is this? What? Say that again? . . . This is the Space Ship Galileo, Arthur Mueller transmitting. Hold on a minute.”
Art flipped a switch on the front of the panel. “Now go ahead. Repeat who you are.”
A heavy, bass voice came out of the transmitter: “This is Lunar Expedition Number One,” the voice said. “Will you be pleased to wait one minute while I summon our leader?”
“Wait a minute,” yelled Art. “Don’t go away!” But the speaker did not answer.
Ross started whistling to himself. “Stop that whistling,” Art demanded.