"You're right-I, suppose. Okay, we leave it up to Traub."

From the other end of the compartment Traub looked around from his chess game with Bowles.

"Somebody call me?"

"Yes," Barnes agreed. "Both of you. We've got things to decide."

Barnes outlined the situation. "Now," he said, "Doe and I agree that, after we get into a circular orbit and have had time to add up what's left, Mannie should decide whether we land, or just swing around and blast for home."

Bowles looked amazed, but said nothing.

Traub looked flustered. "Me? It ain't my business to decide. I'm the electronics department."

"Because," Barnes stated, "you're the only one with kids."

"Yes, but -- Look here-is there really a chance that, if we landed, we wouldn't be able to get back?"

"Possible," Barnes answered and Corley nodded.

"But don't you know?"

"Look, Mannie," Barnes countered, "we've got water in the tanks to land, take off, and return to Earth-but none for mistakes."

"Yes, but you won't make any mistakes, will you?"

"I can't promise. I've already made one and it's brought us -- to this situation."

Traub's features worked in agonized indecision. "But it's not my business to decide!"

Bowles spoke up suddenly. "You're right; it's not!" He went on, "Gentlemen, I didn't intend to speak, because it never crossed my mind that we might not land. But now the situation demands it. As you know, I received a coded message.

"The gist was this; our trip has caused grave international repercussions. The Security Council has been in 'constant session, with the U.S.S.R. demanding that the Moon be declared joint property of the United Nations -- "

"As it should be," Corley interrupted.

"You don't see the point, Doctor. Their only purpose is to forestall us claiming the Moon-we, who actually are making the trip. To forestall us, you understand, so 'that the United States will not be able to found a base on the Moon without permission-permission that is certain~to be vetoed."

"But," pointed out Corley, "it works both ways. We would veto Russia establishing a base on the Moon.

Admiral, I've worked with you because it was a way to get on with my life's ambition, but, to be frank, using the Moon as a rocket launching base-by anybody-sticks in my craw."

Bôwles turned red. "Doctor, this is not an attempt to insure the neutrality of the Moon; this is the same double-talk they used to stop world control of atomics. The commissars simply want to tie us up in legalisms until they have time to get to the Moon. We'll wake up one morning to find Russia with a base on the Moon and us with none-and World War Three will be over before it starts."

"But-Admiral, you can't know that."

Bowles turned to Barnes. "Tell him, Jim."

Barnes gestured impatiently. "Come out of your ivory tower, Doe. Space travel is here now-we did it. There is bound to be a rocket base on the Moon. Sure, it ought to be a United Nations base, keeping the peace of the world. But the, United Nations has been helpless from scratch. The first base is going to belong to us-or to Russia. Which one-do you trust not to misuse the power? Us-or the Politburo?"

Corley covered his eyes, then looked at Bowles. "All right," he said dully. "It has to be-but I don't like it."

Traub broke the ensuing silence with "Uh,. I don't see how this ties in with whether we land or not?"

Bowles turned to him. "Because of this: the rest of that message restored me to active duty and directed me tO claim the Moon in the name of the United States-as quickly as possible. We would have what the diplomats call a fait accompli. But to claim the Moon I have to land!"

Traub stared. "Oh. I see." Bowles went on in a gentle voice, "Mannie, this goes beyond you and me, or even your kids. The surest way to make sure that your kids grow up in a peaceful, free world is to risk your neck right now. So we've got to land."

Traub hesitated; Bowles went on, "You -- see that, don't you? It's for your kids-and millions of other kids."

Barnes interrupted him. "Red-quit working on him!"

"Eh?" "He'll make a free choice-after we've leveled off and looked the situation over."

"But, Jim, I thought we saw eye to eye. You told Doc -- "

"Pipe down! You've stated your case, now quit trying to work him up into being a martyr."

Bowles turned bright red. "I must inform you, sir, that besides being returned to active duty I was given authority to commandeer this ship."

Barnes locked eyes with him. "You can take -- your authority and-do whatever -- you think proper with it. I'm skipper and will stay so as long as I'm alive." He looked around. "All hands-get ready for approach. Doe, go ahead with trial calculations, Type B. Mannie, warm up the pilot radar. Bowles!"

-- Finally Bowles answered, "Yes, sir."

"Rig the autocamera in the starboard port. We'll take a continuous strip as we pass around the far side."

"Aye aye, sir."

Traub leaned from his couch and peered out the starboard port. "It's just like the other side."

Barnes answered, "What did you expect?-- Skyscrapers? Co-pilot, how do -- you track?"

"Speed over ground-one point three seven. Altitude, fifty-one point two, closing slowly."

"Check. I project closest approach at not less than twenty-one-no contact. What do you get?"

"Closer to twenty, but no contact."

"Check. Take over orientation. I'll blast when altitude changes from steady -- to opening."

"Aye aye, sir!"

The Luna was swinging around the unknown far face of the Moon, but her crew was too busy to see much of the -- craggy, devil-torn landscape. She was nearing her closest approach, travelling almost horizontally. She was pointed tail first, ready to blast back from ,a top speed of a mile and a half a second to a circular orbit speed of a mile a second. At Barnes' order Bowles gave his attention to placing her axis precisely horizontal.

The television screen read "View Aft"; in -- its center was a cross mark lying over a picture of the mountainous horizon they were approaching. He jockeyed the ship against the reaction of the flywheel, then steadied her by gyros when one cross line held steady on the horizon~

Barnes set his controls on semiautomatic, ready both to fire and cut off with one punch of the firing button. Into his autopilot he fed the speed change he wished to achieve. Altitude dropped to forty miles, to thirty, to less than twenty-five. "Power plant,". Barnes called out, "stand by for blasting!"

"Ready, Jim," Corley reported quietly.

"Electronics?"

"Everything sweet, Skipper."

Barnes watched ground speed with one eye, the radar altimeter with the other...twenty-three, it said...twenty-two...twenty-one and a half.

Twenty-one point five...twenty-one -- point four -- point four again-and again. Point five! and crawling up. His finger stabbed at the firing button.

The blast was fourteen seconds only, then it cut off, but in the same mushy fashion which it had before. Barnes shook his' head to clear it and looked at his board. Altitude twenty-one point five; ground speed, one plus a frog's whisker-they were in orbit as planned. He sighed happily. "That's all for now, troops. Leave everything hot but you can get out of your hammocks."

Bowles said, "Hadn't I better stay and watch the board?"

"Suit yourself-but they won't repeal the law of gravitation. Doe, let's see how much juice we have left." He glanced at a clock. "We've got an hour to make a decision. It will be almost half an hour before Earth is in sight again."

"I don't like the way she cuts off," Corley complained. "Quit fretting. I used to have a car that sounded its horn every time I made a left turn."