Fredric Brown - The Second Fredric Brown Megapack

“Why single? Look, there are four other pilots who’ve made that trip, and they’re all loyal, regardless of what job they’re holding now. I know them all personally. And all of them are married except me. Why not send a man who’s already got a ball and chain?”

“For the simple reason, Ray, that the woman to be sent must be chosen with even more care. You know how tough a Moon landing is; only one woman in a hundred would live through it and still be able to—I mean, there’s almost a negligible chance that the wife of any one of the other four pilots would be the best qualified woman who could possibly be found.”

“Hmmm. Well, I suppose Junior’s got something there. Anyway, I see now how he knew I’d be chosen. Those qualifications fit me exactly. But listen, do I have to stay married to whatever female is Amazonian enough to make the trip? There’s a limit somewhere, isn’t there?”

“Of course. You will be legally married before your departure, but upon your return a divorce will be granted without question if both—or either one—of you wish. The offspring of the union, if any, will be cared for. Whether male or female.”

“Hey, that’s right,” Carmody said. “There’s only an even chance of hitting the jackpot in any case.”

“Other couples will be sent. The first trip is the most difficult and most important one. After that, a base will be established. Sooner or later we’ll get our answer. We’ll have it if even one male child is conceived on the Moon. Not that that will help us find the station that’s sending the rays, or to detect or identify the rays, but we’ll know what’s wrong and can narrow our inquiry. I take it that you accept?”

Carmody sighed. “I guess so. But it seems a long way to go for—Say, who’s the lucky girl?”

Reeber cleared his throat. “I think you’d better explain this part to him, Mr. President.”

President Saunderson smiled as Carmody looked toward him. He said, “There is a more important reason, which Mr. Reeber skipped, why we could not choose a man who was already married, Captain. This is being done on an international basis, for very important diplomatic reasons. The experiment is for the benefit of humanity, not any nation or ideology. Your wife will be a Russian.”

“A Commie? You’re kidding me, Mr. President.”

“I am not. Her name is Anna Borisovna. I have not met her, but I am informed that she is a very attractive girl. Her qualifications are quite similar to yours, except, of course, that she has not been to the Moon. No woman has. But she has been a pilot of experimental rockets on short-range flights. And she is a cybernetics technician working on the big machine at Moscow. She is twenty-four. And not, incidentally, an Amazon. As you know, rocket pilots aren’t chosen for bulk. There is an added advantage in her being chosen. She speaks English.”

“You mean I’ve got to talk to her, too?”

Carmody caught the look Reeber flashed at him and he winced.

The President continued: “You will be married to her tomorrow by a beam-televised ceremony. You blast off, both of you, tomorrow night—at different times, of course, since one of you will leave from here, the other from Russia. You will meet on the Moon.”

“It’s a large place, Mr. President.”

“That is taken care of. Major Granham—you know him, I believe?” Carmody nodded. “He will supervise your takeoff and the sending of the supply rockets. You will fly tonight—a plane has been prepared for you—from the airport here to Suffolk Rocket Field. Major Granham will brief you and give you full instructions. Can you be at the airport by seven-thirty?”

Carmody thought and then nodded. It was five-thirty now and there’d be a lot of things for him to do and arrange in two hours, but he could make it if he tried. And hadn’t Junior told him he was going to be busy this evening?

“Only one thing more,” President Saunderson said. “This is strictly confidential, until and unless the mission is successful. We don’t want to raise hopes, either here or in the Eastern Alliance, and then have them smashed.” He smiled. “And if you and your wife have any quarrels on the Moon, we don’t want them to lead to international repercussions. So please—try to get along.” He held out his hand. “That’s all, except thanks.”

Carmody made the airport in time and the plane was waiting for him, complete with pilot. He had figured that he would have to fly it himself, but he realized that it was better this way; he could get a bit of rest before they reached Suffolk Field.

He got a little, but not much. The plane was a hot ship that got him there in less than an hour. A liaison officer was waiting for him and took him immediately to Major Granham’s office.

Granham got down to brass tacks almost before Carmody could seat himself in the offered chair.

He said, “Here’s the picture. Since you got out of the service, we’ve tremendously increased the accuracy of our rockets, manned or otherwise. They’re so accurate that, with proper care, we can hit within a mile of any spot on the Moon that we aim at. We’re picking Hell Crater—it’s a small one, but we’ll put you right in the middle of it. You won’t have to worry about steering; you’ll hit within a mile of the center without having to use your braking rockets for anything except braking.”

“Hell Crater?” Carmody said. “There isn’t any.”

“Our Moon maps have forty-two thousand named craters. Do you know them all? This one, incidentally, was named after a Father Maximilian Hell, S. J., who was once director of the Vienna Observatory in old Austria.”

Carmody grinned. “Now you’re spoiling it. How come it was picked as a honeymoon spot, though? Just because of the name?”

“No. One of the three successful flights the Russians made happened to land and take off there. They found the footing better than anywhere else either of us has landed. Almost no dust; you won’t have to slog through knee-deep pumice when you’re gathering the supply rockets. Probably a more recently formed crater than any of the others we’ve happened to land in or explore.”

“Fair enough. About the rocket I go in—what’s the payload besides myself?”

“Not a thing but the food, water and oxygen you’ll need en route, and your spacesuit. Not even fuel for your return, although you’ll return in the same rocket you go in. Everything else, including return fuel, will be there waiting for you; it’s on the way now. We fired ten supply rockets last night. Since you take off tomorrow night, they’ll get there forty-eight hours before you do. So—”

“Wait a minute,” Carmody said. “On my first trip I carried fifty pounds payload besides my return fuel. Is this a smaller type of rocket?”

“Yes, and a much better one. Not a step-rocket like you used before. Better fuel and more of it; you can accelerate longer and at fewer gravities, and you’ll get there quicker. Forty-four hours as against almost four days before. Last time you took four-and-a-half Gs for seven minutes. This time you’ll get by with three Gs and have twelve minutes’ acceleration before you reach Brennschluss —cut loose from Earth’s gravitation. Your first trip, you had to carry return fuel and a little payload because we didn’t have the accuracy to shoot a supply rocket after you—or before you—and be sure it’d land within twenty miles. All clear? After we’re through talking here I’ll take you to the supply depot, show you the type of supply rocket we’re using and how to open and unload it. I’ll give you an inventory of the contents of each of the twelve of them we sent.”

“And what if all of them don’t get there?”