Science fiction; Short stories; Space flight to the moon -- Fiction
Harold saw that he was awake. "You went to sleep! You shoulda woke me.
It's been six hours!"
Orville said nothing.
"We may be clear past the Moon by now," Harold grumbled.
* * * * *
Orville turned his face to the wall. He heard the hiss as Harold ran in
fresh oxygen. "Shoot! Better go down and hook up a new tank." Harold
clanked around in the other end of the ship and came back.
"How far out are we?" asked Orville.
"Not far. I'm cutting down the speed some."
"Uh ... how do you plan to take her down?"
"That's an interesting point, now. Let's see...."
"Wouldn't it be better if we just flew up close, not too close, and then
headed for home? Of course, there's that problem back there, too."
"Don't you want the beans? I'll eat 'em then."
"But I'd feel better crashing on the Earth, somehow, than on the Moon--"
"Who says we're going to crash? There are several ways to set her down.
Head first, tail first, but I guess I'll lay her in sideways. It'll be
easier to crawl outside."
"What?"
"Sure." Harold was munching beans. Then he rummaged in the supplies and
brought out a jar of peaches. He drank off some of the juice. "Rosie
never gets enough sugar in these to suit me." The peaches slid off the
spoon. He dug in with his fingers and brought out a slice. "Point of the
whole thing. Explore. Look around." He tilted the jar to his mouth and
let slices fall into his mouth. "Pick up some samples of rocks and
things."
"You can get rocks right around home."
"But these are different. These weigh only a quarter as much as the
rocks on Earth. Or is it a sixth?"
"In that case--" Orville started gathering up empty bags and cans and
putting them into a soup carton.
"What're you doing?"
"Cleaning the place up a little. We can get rid of some of this trash."
"Don't throw those out! I paid a deposit on them." Harold pulled out the
empty milk bottles and put them back in the case.
III
Harold had said the landing would be as gentle as laying a baby in its
cradle. It wasn't exactly.
He said: "There!"
"Are we down?"
Harold nodded. Orville let go of the railing he'd been hanging onto.
Harold unplugged something.
The ship went dark and started rolling. It was a slow, drunken roll and
as noisy as an oil drum going down the court house steps. There was a
final hard blow; then the ship rocked and lay still.
Orville sat up. He could hear Harold scrambling about, and then a
flashlight came on.
"What happened?"
"Must have landed on the side of a mountain. Rolled down when I turned
off our counter-grav. Shoot!" Harold held up something. "Broke a lens in
my glasses. There's another trip to the eye-doctor's."
Orville rescued a couple of bottles that were spilling water. Everything
else seemed to be all right. The ship lay on its side now and Harold was
crawling through the hole leading to the other compartment. When Orville
got through, Harold was hauling something from the other end of the
ship.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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