Short Stories by Robert A. Heinlein Vol 2 Part 12

He saw a small, neat man with a thin, intelligent face, and the big, competent hands of a jockey. LeCroix returned his inspection without embarra.s.sment. He seemed calm and utterly sure of himself.

"Well, Captain LeCroix?"

"You are building a Moon s.h.i.+p."

"Who says so?"

"A Moon s.h.i.+p is being built. The boys all say you are behind it."

"Yes?"

"I want to pilot it."

"Why should you?"

"I'm the best man for it."

Harriman paused to let out a cloud of tobacco smoke. "If you can prove that, the billet is yours."

"It's a deal." LeCroix stood up. "I'll leave my nameand address outside."

"Wait a minute. I said 'if.' Let's talk. I'm going along on this trip myself; I want to know more about you before I trust my neck to you."

They discussed Moon flight, interplanetary travel, rocketry, what they might find on the Moon. Gradually Harriman warmed up, as he found another spirit so like his own, so obsessed with the Wonderful Dream. Subconsciously he had already accepted LeCroix; the conversation began to a.s.sume that it would be a joint venture.

After a long time Harriman said, "This is fun, Les, but I've got to do a few ch.o.r.es yet today, or none of us will get to the Moon. You go on out to Peterson Field and get acquainted with Bob Coster--I'll call him. If the pair of you can manage to get along, we'll talk contract." He scribbled a chit and handed it to LeCroix. "Give this to Miss Perkins as you go out and she'll put you on the payroll."

"That can wait."

"Man's got to eat."

LeCroix accepted it but did not leave. "There's one thing I don't understand, Mr. Harriman."

"Huh?"

"Why are you planning on a chemically powered s.h.i.+p? Not that I object; I'll herd her. But why do it the hard way? I know you had the City of Brisbane refitted for X-fuel--"

Harriman stared at him. "Are you off your nut, Les? You're asking why pigs don't have wings--there isn't any X-fuel and there won't be any more until we make some ourselves--on the Moon."

"Who told you that?"

"What do you mean?"

"The way I heard it, the Atomic Energy Commission allocated X-fuel, under treaty, to several other countries--and some of them weren't prepared to make use of it. But they got it just the same. What happened to it?"

"Oh, that! Sure, Les, several of the little outfits in Central America and South America were cut in for a slice of pie for political reasons, even though they had no way to eat it. A good thing, too--we bought it back and used it to ease the immediate power shortage." Harriman frowned. "You're right, though. I should have grabbed some of the stuff then."

"Are you sure it's all gone?"

"Why, of course, I'm-- No, I'm not. I'll look into it. G'bye, Les."

His contacts were able to account for every pound of X-fuel in short order--save for Costa Rica's allotment. That nation had declined to sell back its supply because its power plant, suitable for X-fuel, had been almost finished at the time of the disaster. Another inquiry disclosed that the power plant had never been finished.

Montgomery was even then in Managua; Nicaragua had had a change in administration and Montgomery was making certain that the special position of the local Moon corporation was protected. Harriman sent him a coded message to proceed to San Jose, locate X-fuel, buy it and s.h.i.+p it back--at any cost. He then went to see the chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission.

That official was apparently glad to see him and anxious to be affable. Harriman got around to explaining that he wanted a license to do experimental work in isotopes--X-fuel, to be precise.

"This should be brought up through the usual channels, Mr. Harriman."

"It will be. This is a preliminary inquiry. I want to know your reactions."

"After all, I am not the only commissioner . . . and we almost always follow the recommendations of our technical branch."

"Don't fence with me, Carl. You know dern well you control a working majority. Off the record, what do you say?"

"Well, D.D.--off the record--you can't get any X-fuel, so why get a license?"

"Let me worry about that."

"Mmmm . . we weren't required by law to follow every millicurie of X-fuel, since it isn't cla.s.sed as potentially suitable for ma.s.s weapons. Just the same, we knew what happened to it. There's none available."

Harriman kept quiet.

"In the second place, you can have an X-fuel license, if you wish--for any purpose but rocket fuel."

"Why the restriction?"

"You are building a Moon s.h.i.+p, aren't you?"

"Me?"

"Don't you fence with me, D.D. It's my business to know things. You can't use X-fuel for rockets, even if you can find it--which you can't." The chairman went to a vault back of his desk and returned with a quarto volume, which he laid in front of Harriman. It was t.i.tled: Theoretical Investigation into the Stability of Several Radioisotopic Fuels--With Notes on the Charon-Power-Satellite Disaster. The cover had a serial number and was stamped: SECRET.

Harriman pushed it away. "I've got no business looking at that--and I wouldn't understand it if I did."

The chairman grinned. "Very well, I'll tell you what's in it. I'm deliberately tying your hands, D.D., by trusting you with a defense secret--"

"I won't have it, I tell you!"

"Don't try to power a s.p.a.ce s.h.i.+p with X-fuel, D.D. It's a lovely fuel-- but it may go off like a firecracker anywhere out in s.p.a.ce. That report tells why."

"Confound it, we ran the Charon for nearly three years!"

"You were lucky. It is the official--but utterly confidential--opinion of the government that the Charon set off the power satellite, rather than the satellite setting off the Charon. We had thought it was the other way around at first, and of course it could have been, but there was the disturbing matter of the radar records. It seemed as if the s.h.i.+p had gone up a split second before the satellite. So we made an intensive theoretical investigation. X-fuel is too dangerous for rockets."

"That's ridiculous! For every pound burned in the Charon there were at least a hundred pounds used in power plants on the surface. How come they didn't explode?"

"It's a matter of s.h.i.+elding. A rocket necessarily uses less s.h.i.+elding than a stationary plant, but the worst feature is that it operates out in s.p.a.ce. The disaster is presumed to have been triggered by primary cosmic radiation. If you like, I'll call in one of the mathematical physicists to elucidate."